


Nomad Prince

by gladheonsleeps



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Adult Themes, Adultry, BAMF Loki, BAMF Sif, Bad ass women, Dragons, F/F, F/M, Lady Loki, Loki & Sif's friendship, Loki turns into a woman for science, Loki's Kids, Loki's affairs, Major character death - Freeform, Married Loki, Muspellheim Nomads, Nerd Loki, Other, Sexual References, Sigyn has so many men on the side, Sorry Not Sorry, Studious Loki, but none of the marvel favourites, introspective Loki, non-graphic sex scenes, playing fast and loose with cannon and norse religion, pre Thor, they're there though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:36:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5015692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladheonsleeps/pseuds/gladheonsleeps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This work is a stand alone prequel within the universe within Across the Galaxies on the Back of the Goddess of War series. </p>
<p>Loki, the scholarly Prince of Asgard, trapped in a loveless marriage to a scheming Sigyn embarks on a quest to research the nomadic society on the realm of Muspellheim where he meets the love of his life and the mother of his children. </p>
<p>Includes Loki & Sif, bromance for the ages and Lady Loki! Which is never not fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic I have a music rec per character. They work as a tiny playlist I suppose?  
> For Loki in this fic, I was listening to Renaissance! by San Fermin, an excellent band with pleasing harmonies and great musicality.

It had taken Loki very near a decade, but he managed it. It really was no surprise, when one thought about it, that taking the form of a woman was one of the greatest challenges he had faced as a sorcerer. Theoretically, it should have been easy. The steps he had to go through were as simple as any other change. However there were things women could do that men could not, and the magic had fought him at every stage, fought him so hard as if to convince him to give up, turn around, and not go this way. It was almost as if he needed to prove that this was really what he desired, and that he was worthy of the inheritances he would gain in the form of a woman. All without words, leaving his silver tongue by the wayside and leaving only his person, his very soul laid bare. Had he needed this form for nefarious purposes Yggdrasil would have not allowed it, but he wished it only for knowledge, and to understand. In this he had finally succeeded. He stood, utterly exhausted in an abandoned storage room in the highest spires of the palace that he had swathed in protective spells and hidden from any but himself centuries ago.  His wife had no idea where he disappeared to for hours and sometimes days at a time and he intended to keep it that way. He grimaced as he thought about what she would say if she saw him right now, but then he smiled, eyeing his form in the tarnished copper mirror before him. Aesthetically, Sigyn represented all of the physical ideals of Asgard, which, Loki mourned was most probably why Odin had selected her for his wife, and perpetrator of his lifelong incarceration of marriage. With her statuesque figure, her blond hair, golden skin and azure eyes she was a match to Thor, Frigga, Odin and all the other heroic figures of the Eternal Realm. In female form as in male Loki stood quite opposite to these ideals, but for all that he was, arguably, very beautiful. His pale skin took on a look like fine porcelain, rather than the harder aspect of ivory that his statuesque male form tended to bring. He remained the same height though his black hair had somehow grown in length and spilled in soft curls down his back, almost reaching his now soft rear. His eyes drifted over this new body, fingers curiously brushing the softness that sat above his muscular form. He was curvier than Sif, but not as soft as Sigyn. His breasts, however, rather surprised him, and he stared at them, a little nonplussed. They sat heavy on his chest. No matter how he stood or moved, he was always aware of their weight. How he managed to acquire such ample assets he had no idea, but they brought his figure to an hourglass which he found he quite liked. His full lips drew into a small, smug smile. In this form so many features he had come to loathe as he was bullied for being feminine shone now as strengths, enhanced and framed in a context he could appreciate. His eyes with their full eyelashes were almost unchanged, still shining bright green, right now narrowed in careful observation; they were ever more a feature on his smaller face. He would have to be careful of that, guarding his expression ever more. Without an Adam’s apple his long neck became a graceful line above petite shoulders and long willowy arms, ending in long fingers and fine, neat fingernails.

The sun was starting to lean in through the window of his secret tower and he sighed regretfully. There was a feast tonight and he would have to go get ready soon. He almost considered going in this form but shook his head. That would give away his game, and this one was a long play. He would need this skill, this form to be a secret for some time to come. He would have to distract himself with other games this night. He took one last look at himself in the mirror before concentrating on his male form before there was a _shift_ and he stood once more as Loki, prince of Asgard. He was surprised, lingering before the mirror as suddenly he found that he didn’t hate his physique so much, feeling everything in its place, muscle and sinew and bone. He found he _felt_ masculine, more sure of himself than he had in centuries. He bowed his head, _Thank you Yggdrasil, for this unforseen gift_. He dressed again quickly and vacated the rooms before his wife decided to disrupt the entire palace in search of him as she sometimes did at times such as this. After all, she liked nothing more than a feast to show off her husband and remind everyone her position in the court, no matter that the husband in question rather despised her and would have begrudged her that position if he had not been forced to wed her.

He sighed as he moved magically through shadows in order to hide his movements anywhere near his secret work room. He wouldn’t say he was looking forward to tonight’s celebrations, but he dreaded them a little less than he did others, as this night was in celebration of the Lady Sif. His friend had recently singlehandedly taken on a giant that had been terrorising some remote villages in Alfheim. The brute had apparently been quite offended Asgard had sent a woman, though he didn’t have very long to hold that opinion. Sif got rather deadly when her sex was brought up as a weakness. Well, she was deadly at any time, though those who brought up her gender tended to have a more painful end than those who fought her as they would any other warrior. Loki didn’t begrudge her such actions either. Those who would underestimate an opponent such as Sif deserved what they got. She was the goddess of war, and carried death on her sword and glaive. Men with any brains or sense of self preservation feared her as such.

He arrived at the apartments he shared with Sigyn. They were rather different than the rooms he had had for centuries a few floors above. Those he had kept, preferring to keep them as a study and admittedly, he slept there an awful lot more than he should as a blissfully married man. To her credit, Sigyn didn’t really seem to mind all that much, having married him for status rather than a particular attraction to his body. There were many things she nagged and picked at him for, but sex was not one of them. He supposed he should be thinking about children at some point, but she hadn’t mentioned them so he had stayed quiet on the issue, hoping to avoid it for another century at least.

He saw that Sign had bathed and was now having her hair done by one of the various ladies in waiting she kept around, another reason for the scarcity of Loki’s presence in their apartments. Everywhere there was talk of fashions and court gossip. His mother’s rooms had never held such and he found there was only so much he could take. He had, admittedly been paying a little more attention on rare occasion as research for his new female identity. Now that he had finally had break though with the physical part of that plan, he had to subtly create the identity, learn how to behave as a woman. They had so many codes and behaviours amongst themselves that men never cared to heed. Loki had long been learning the language while sitting at his mother’s feet as a child, but in order to fully play the game, tiresome and irritating as those lessons had been, he had recently been studying in earnest. One could never accuse Loki Odinson of slacking in any lesson but those of the training fields, and even then he had snuck away to train on his lonesome in the manner he had taught himself out of books and from a very few opponents he had met in other realms in battle. He had no desire to listen to the harsh taunts of his trainers if they could teach him nothing. No, in battle, as with everything, Loki found he was his own best teacher. His methods had saved his life and those of his comrades often enough for him to know it. Eventually the taunts had lessened to a bare minimum that people stuck to out of habit more than anything else. It was easier to dismiss his use of magic in a bout than to admit their own defeat and so he was derided. They certainly didn’t ever complain about it out on the field of battle however.

Loki dressed in front of the mirror, paying little attention to what he was seeing as his valet helped him put on the layers of leather and fine linen. At the same time he enjoyed being back in his own body as he always did after returning to his own form. Much as the flush of the success of the afternoon rushed through his veins, he enjoyed being Loki. As much as he was queer and different than most around him there was something to be said for living in a body for eight centuries. One got used to having it around. And he used it like a tool. His were features that were easy to hold in a neutral expression, his stature was easily kept aloof, his back rod straight. His was a body that was suited to shadows, to intrigue. He brushed a hand through his hair, slicking it back. It was growing long. He considered cutting it but remembered how his longer hair had felt in female form. He smiled and left it. Maybe he would let it grow for a while. He could always cut it if he didn’t like it.

One of Sigyn’s ladies knocked on his door. His valet opened it. After a quiet discussion Loki was told that his wife awaited him. Sighing, he joined her where she waited in the parlour. She looked resplendent in an emerald star silk gown. Growing up Loki had always thought that when he was married he would be honoured by his spouse choosing to wear his colours. Seeing Sigyn in them never failed to put him in an irritable mood. He often encouraged her to branch out for he knew she favoured blues. He had noticed that she never failed to wear green when she knew Sif would be near. There was no way that she could know about their secret relationship so many centuries ago, so it must be their friendship that rankled her. He supposed if a woman should be intimidated, it should be Sif who brings those feelings. Next to his mother she was the greatest example of her sex that he knew of. Even the great Brunhilde dimmed in comparison to them both. Nevertheless Sigyn was imagining competition where there was none. The only thing Sif did to endanger their marriage was to remind him of what true love had felt like. For all their short affair was fleeting, burning bright and swift, it was sweet. Sif would forever be his first, and Sigyn would never compare in vision, in passion, or in character. She also knew Loki almost as well as he knew himself, which was cause for regret sometimes. Sigyn, gratefully, knew him but little, only clutching to superficial details, like his penchant for green. He supposed she rather relished his mysterious and intimidating reputation, using it to her own advantage in court. It meant little to him, just so long as she stayed out of his way.

They had made their way to the feasting hall and met with Thor at the entrance. He allowed his brother’s thump on his back in greeting and smiled his own welcome, finding some jibe or other to dish out while Sigyn simpered and giggled at some joke his brother was saying. His thoughts were elsewhere. Sif had arrived; being the guest of honour she would be announced after the Princes. He was rather pleased that she had worn the gift he had given her. She had saved his life in a skirmish the month before. A seemingly simple disagreement with some dark elves had grown nasty and Loki had been overwhelmed by five at once. He had barely avoided being skewered by a barbed spear when Sif stepped in and took the assailant’s head. They had ever had each other’s back, but Loki had felt compelled to offer his thanks in his usual non-verbal way. He had had a dress made for her in a blue so dark it looked black. Its bodice was almost armour-like in a supple leather, with skirts of moonsilk that floated about her rather dramatically when she walked. He had hoped it would blend her parts, the fighter and the beauty and he was pleased to see she carried it with elegance and poise. He bowed. “My lady.”

Sif gave him a nod, and knocked Thor on the shoulder with her own. Sigyn, as was her habit was immediately on the defence. “Oh Lady Sif! How lovely you look tonight! Though I would hate to think that you’d be in need of that armour at a simple feast my dear.”

Loki gave Sif teasing grin and turned to Sigyn, “I think you’ll find, my wife that Sif needs all the defense she can get. I would hazard a guess that she will be fighting off suitors all night once again.”

Thor’s laugh boomed over them and Sigyn gave an affected giggle. “I don’t know why you don’t simply pick already. You could have anyone you want! Unless you’re waiting for the highest prize I suppose.” Her eyes moved obviously to Thor who blushed.

Loki could see that the warrior barely suppressed an eye roll or worse. As it was her reply was through gritted teeth. “I can assure you that my career is too all consuming at present to think of marriage to some brute a prize, even this one is a beast. I don’t see marriage in my near future, Princess.”

Thor smiled at Sif and gave her a thump on the back. The smaller woman, to her credit took it on braced feet and didn’t move an inch, used to such signs of affection from the prince. “My friend I agree with you, there are too many foes to conquer and adventures to be had to marry just yet. No, we are but young! Leave us our freedom a while longer if you will, Sigyn. You have your happiness, leave us our own.”

“Yes, I daresay the realm can only handle the excitement of one royal wedding per century. All the frivolity our own brought will be enough to satisfy the people for a while.” Loki commented dryly.

Thor boomed again. “Yes I dare say that was quite the celebration.” His clap to the back almost pushed Loki over.

Loki suppressed a groan. Sigyn looked up at him with a look that was contrived to be sweet or loving but fell short. He wished he hadn’t brought it up. They were saved from any further conversation on the matter as their parents arrived and the Queen kissed him on the cheek. “Good evening Loki, Sigyn, Thor. Lady Sif, you look lovely this evening.”

Sif looked to be genuinely pleased by the compliment. She definitely didn’t look at Loki as she told the queen it had been a gift. Frigga gave her a shrewd look. Sif wasn’t given to wearing gifts from suitors, preferring to show no preference and leave them all to get over their feelings. It only sometimes worked, with many a man wishing to own the fierce warrior, as men were want to do. Loki was again glad that she had taken the gift for what it was, a simple gesture from a friend. Their friendship was a queer one, they fought more than they got along, but were fearsome allies in battle and court life alike, the stronger for the fact that no one really knew how close they actually were. Their allyship was carried out in secret codes and hidden gestures, with a weekly spar carried out in secret. They had never really discussed the secrecy since their romantic affair ended, but it worked for them, neither fond of sentiment or soft feelings and so it had carried on in such a way for centuries. Each kept an eye on the other in battle and in the vicious battleground that was court life. They were also united in their love of his buffoon brother. For all he was brave and an excellent warrior he needed his back guarded and the two were happy to have it. It was a system that had worked for centuries, completed by the warriors three. He sighed as he sat next to his wife. She rather disrupted that situation but they had all adjusted. The warriors and Thor treating her with polite friendship, making sure she didn’t feel slighted, for all she wasn’t in their preferred company. Fandral of course was happy there were ladies in waiting around more often, and he could tell Sif was sometimes a little relieved not to be the only female in the room, even if they were vastly different creatures.

Odin stood at the head of the long golden table, shining in the lights as he made a speech about the fierce maiden warrior. Loki knew she hated such a description, saying that none of the other warriors were called man warriors, or shield boys. He argued that for all that she used her sex as a weapon, carried her femininity with her wherever she went and used it as an asset. She wasn’t a warrior despite being a woman, she simply was a warrior. She was War. Her smile at that was a frightening thing. The woman was dangerous indeed.

As Odin finished his speech there was a deafening roar from the guests of the feast. Though it wasn’t as loud an applause as Thor tended to garner, Loki was pleased for his friend, she deserved all of the applause that she was given and more. The feasting began and Loki was plagued with dull conversation and tragically repetitive tales. The food was good and the wine blessedly numbing but he found himself wishing for his own company as he always did at such a gathering. For his friend’s sake he stayed as long as he could but his efforts that afternoon were taking their toll. His magic had not yet recovered from the fight he had had to put up for his will find purchase in reality. From the shrewd looks his mother was giving him over the table his fatigue must be showing. He begged pardon and found a balcony for a breath of fresh air and quiet to ease his aching head.

His mother found him, as was her habit. “My son, you look tired. What have you been up to that has you so fatigued?”

It was nearly impossible to lie to Queen Frigga, and so he spoke a truth. “Oh, it’s nothing; I have simply had little sleep of late.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “Is it the nightmares again?”

Loki  admitted such things to no one, but Frigga tended to find these things out anyway. He sighed, rubbing at his temples with his thumb and forefinger. “Always.” Was all he would say. Frigga took his face in her hands, rubbing his forehead and scalp. For all such physical signs of affection embarrassed him he found his headache easing and his shoulders relaxing. He hated his weakness for physical touch, wishing he didn’t crave it so. He gave his mother a smile all the same. “And how are you, mother?”

“Oh I’ve been busy with so many things. I was wondering if Sigyn would be interested in helping me with the benefit for military widows next month?”

Loki suppressed a laugh. Charity? She would not. However working on a project with the Queen would lift her standing and so she would do it. “If you ask her she would probably love to.”

Frigga gave a sad smile and nodded. “Alright I will ask her.” For all she tried to encourage Loki in his marital responsibilities he knew she had been almost as against the match as he himself was. She had known how ill suited the pair was. For all Odin had sought a match to try to bring Loki into line they had both known she would only bring strife and discontent. 

Loki didn’t hide his sigh as he saw his wife approaching through the crowd. “You’ll have your chance currently.” Even more than with Sif, Sigyn became clingy and meddlesome when it came to Loki’s relationship with his mother. He supposed people always had some form of tension with their in laws, but this seemed a little extreme. Frigga was, after all the Queen of Asgard.

He pasted on a false smile for his wife and saw Frigga do the same. “Loooki, there you are, husband.” Uninvited, she took his arm in both hands, manoeuvring herself between them. He saw that her nails were tinted emerald and his eyes narrowed. She gave the Queen a simpering smile. “Your Highness. I didn’t have a chance to tell you earlier but you gown this evening is simply exquisite. I dare say, if my skill in embroidery ever reach anywhere near the heights of your own I would be happy indeed.” They all turned to look at the work in question, gracing Frigga’s neckline and sleeves. Loki and Frigga exchanged a private look. It hadn’t been Frigga that had embroidered this particular garment.

“Sigyn is right, mother this gown is fine indeed. But then, everything you wear is a delight to the eye.” He gave her a wink over Sigyn’s head and Frigga gave him a fond smile.

“I’ll leave you two now.” She said, a secretive smile on her lips. Loki tried not to roll his eyes. Norns save him from his meddling mother. What had she seen in Sigyn’s eye that he’d missed?

“Goodnight AllMother.” Sigyn simpered and clung to Loki’s arm until Frigga was back at the table.

“So, husband, I have seen so little of you lately.” There it was. Something in her sharpened gaze. Loki knew the feast was over for them.

“Yes indeed. Shall we retire? You can tell me all about what you’ve been up to.” He guessed she’d want to whisk him away early from Sif’s party. He smiled. He’d give her what she wanted tonight. He knew by now which battles to pick.

She smiled a predator’s smile. How Odin had ever missed this part of her character he had no idea. His father was not a fool, so how could he have done this? He brushed that old frustration aside. This was his lot; he may as well make of it what he could... until he found a way out, which he fully intended to do. They walked back to the table and he let Sigyn make a big show of making their regrets to Sif, who honestly couldn’t have cared less and made no effort to hide it. They were soon away, that particular torture over.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Sigyn have a chat, then take it to the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't write graphic sex scenes, but this is probably NSFW.

Loki caught a servant on their way out the door and ordered wine sent to their room. This was a routine by now, on the rare occasions that Sigyn had need of her husband’s services. He supposed he should be happy that it was so rare, though her taste of foreplay was rather too much for his own sensibilities. Power plays and politics. Still he supposed, everybody had their vices, it only turned out Sigyn’s was owning Loki. She had had some kind of victory tonight, or thought she had, and now she wanted to own him completely once more. Her nails were in his forearm as she practically dragged him back to their apartments. When the doors were closed they sat in their private sitting room. Their servants had prepared the room, and Loki suppressed a sigh. This had been planned. He went for his usual tactic.  “You know I’ve made some fascinating discoveries in the application on certain herbs for healing...” he widened his eyes, leaned back, looking ready to give a lecture, but Sigyn wasn’t having it tonight.

“Really, between all the wonderful sex you’re having with that whore Sif?”

Loki stilled, genuinely surprised. Where had she gotten that idea from? He allowed his incredulousness show. “Sif? Darling, the only sex I have is with you, I swear by the Norns.”

She only rolled her eyes, standing and walking to him slowly. “Do you really think me so stupid Liesmith?”

He winced at her tone. She had never used that popular nickname for him. There was something going on, for Sigyn was no fool. Poisonous? Yes. Conniving? Yes. Stupid? No. “Sigyn you know I do not think you dull. What brought this on?”

“I can tell one of your designs, Loki. If there is one thing I am an expert on, it is fashion. I know it is nothing to your study of sorcery or your blasted alchemy or warfare, but I am a student of fashion, and I have no doubt that you designed that dress. After all, I have worn _so many_ of your gifts. So tell me, how long has it been?”

Loki groaned and put his head in his hands. He had made such a large victory today; he did not want this today. “Alright, Sigyn, I will tell you the truth. Please, sit down.” He poured two horns of wine and passed one to his furious wife who was, thankfully now seated on a chaise lounge. Green, of course. He knocked back his wine stoically and poured another, remaining standing and glaring out at the sky through the open balcony doors, as if that beautiful, vast ether was at fault. “Sif and I are not lovers, but we were, once. Many many years ago.” He turned to Sigyn, not bothering to hide his expression of reluctance. He hated giving her this secret. It was almost sacred to him, and it seemed like a betrayal to someone who at the very least loved him better than Sigyn ever would, ever could. “She was my first love. But no, we are not together, we have not made love in centuries, and we will never be lovers again, before you say anything. We are too different. She is War, and I am Chaos. But more than that, I always wish to talk while she wishes to fight. In truth, we ourselves are better suited, for we both know words and deeds and how to manipulate them. Oh, don’t deny it Sigyn. You went for a prize and you got it, I am under no illusions that you ever felt anything more than a desire to own the status of my hand, it had nothing to do with me.” He levelled his gaze at her, willing her to understand. She did, a small smile coming to her face, not one he liked. It was an expression he himself wore sometimes, those were always times when he had won something, and when he had cheated to attain that victory. He made a note of it, though it came as no surprise that she had dealt underhandedly to win his hand.

“And yet you do not deny she was wearing your gown tonight? Choosing your gift before all others? I know how favoured she is Loki, she would have had many offers this night, as she does every feast.”

He sighed, reluctant to unpack to this woman the dynamic of his friendship with the warrior. “Yes, but mine was safe, from a married man who has no agenda towards her. We are friends. She is my shield sister. If you must know, it was a gesture of thanks for saving my neck in a battle last month. You would do well to thank her yourself, unless your plans involve becoming a widow- should I be concerned?” she rolled her eyes at his sarcasm but it was said in humour and she took it thus, an offer of truce.

“No, I find I have use for you yet.” She got up and pushed him back into his chair. He allowed her to straddle his thighs, knowing this particular task was inevitable to avoid suspicion. While he truly wasn’t involved with Sif, it was never good to let your wife think she is undesirable. And in truth, the Princess was a true beauty. He let his eyes rake down her figure as she leaned back to take in his own form. “You’re wrong, you know.” He raised his eyebrows, his hands moving up her waist slowly as her own rested on his shoulders. “I wouldn’t have been as eager to bed your brother.”

Loki huffed, not believing her for a second. “Is that true?” his hands drifted down again, finding the edge of her skirts where they were rucked up to allow her position. The emerald silk was exquisitely soft, and he allowed the movement of his fingers on the fabric to tease at her thighs. She looked from under her lashes at him, and then kissed his cheek, his neck, rubbing her soft lips wetly across the skin stretched over his clavicles. Where Sif had always been nails and teeth Sigyn was ever soft lips and quiet moans.

She looked up at him, her eyes displaying naked desire. “Yes. It is. You say that I saw my prize and went for it? Well that was true; I have ever had eyes for the Dark Prince, never for anyone else.”

Despite himself, her words were doing their work, and he saw her slow smile as she felt movement below her. She rocked gently, encouraging him along. He moved his hands to her hair and began unpinning it, letting her golden curls tumble over her shoulders. She arched her back, shaking her hair out before moving towards his neck again. She continued to kiss his jaw and down the line of his throat, her hands moving over his chest and arms as his fingers moved through her silky tresses. “Would you like your Dark Prince to bed you, Princess?” He knew she liked it when he whispered in her ear, allowing his breath to tickle her ever so slightly. She whimpered softly as he moved his hands back to her shapely legs, this time working his way under her skirts.  His eyebrows rose in surprise as he realised she wasn’t wearing underwear. The Princess had planned to bed him this night; she had foreseen this particular end to their argument. For all he felt rather manipulated, a part of him was a little impressed.

She raked her hands through his hair, looking at him like a wild cat looks at a bird, and kissed him wetly on the mouth, all lips and tongue. He held her to him as he stood, walking to her bedroom, leaving the lamps burning. He liked to make it rather obvious when he bedded his wife. Servants gossiped, and it was wise to use that to one’s advantage at all times. The public worried when their royals were celibate. He did, however, close the door behind him before obliging his wife. There may not have been an ounce of love in their marriage, but he had to admit there were certain tasks that were not exactly a chore.

...

Loki woke with a gasp, fighting for breath as he took in his surroundings, this was his nightly habit. His sleep was never sweet, though strangely, it was often a little better in realms other than Asgard, or maybe it was in Asgard that the dreams were worse. He brushed his hand through his hair, loosening strands that were stuck to his forehead with sweat and looked out the window of Sigyn’s bedchamber. It was dark yet, the moon three quarters through its journey across the sky. By its light he looked at his wife, thankful he did not wake her. Though he thought it would be impossible at this stage for her to know that his sleep was often unsettled, it wouldn’t do for her to know the full extent of it. She slept soundly, her usually immaculately coiffed hair a riot of tangled curls across the pillow. In sleep, when her face was soft, she was immensely beautiful. It was truly such a tragedy that such beauty was paired with such an empty soul. Sigyn had such intelligence and cunning too, and she only used it in such empty pursuits. Early in their marriage Loki had tried to find some substance, and had only found a heavily guarded wall blocking such inquiry. He assumed there had, long ago, been something else to the woman, some substance, someone softer, but something had changed, and after that she turned her hand to politics, and not the particular kind he and his family partook in. She had no care for this realm, let alone any other. No, she wanted to be adored and adorned, and would have done anything to get there. And, now that she had it -for she had done her job well. She looked and played her part perfectly when in public and they adored her for it- she worked to keep it. Her plans for the night had not ended with him bedding her. The very moment after his climax, as soon as his eyes had cleared, she told him in no uncertain terms that he was never to gift Sif with such a dress again. Apparently for all her taunting of the other woman, wearing an armoured dress would undoubtedly be a trend by the next feast. She had laughed. He had an eye for design, apparently, and he was to use it to keep her as the height of fashion, not his friend. He should have known this was about that dress. He had fallen back into the bed and laughed with her, telling her that he would have an even better dress made for her the next day, five new dresses. She had smiled, satisfied, and allowed him to drift off to sleep, lulled by her hands in his hair. He hated such contact with her. Somehow sex was less intimate then that stroking, but he was loathe to pull away and let her think anything other than that she had gotten everything she wanted.

Now he rose, assuming sleep would not find him again. Not wanting his wife to feel that he had abandoned her and undo all of his work, he only moved to the chaise lounge at the other end of her room and read by a dim mage light. Sleep did find him however; all the magic he used the day before must have worn him out indeed. He woke to a prod from Sigyn much later that morning. He lifted his head from its uncomfortable position on the back of the couch to find her standing resplendent in the sunlight of the open window, shamelessly naked. “You left me.” She pouted at him, tugging at him to stand. He played her game and bent his throbbing head to kiss her on the mouth. It was very easy to play her games when they involved her being naked. By candle light his wife was alluring. By moonlight she was beautiful. In the morning sunshine, with her hair mussed up by their nocturnal activities, she was barely resistible to any feeling man. She pulled him back to the bed and he followed, his hands moving over her. She didn’t even hide the smugness of her smile as she pushed him into her messed up sheets. Her eyes held so many things in the light of day, but her lips were coasting down his throat, planting a thousand fluttery kisses, her hands holding his onto the bed. It wasn’t often that she took control, as she enjoyed his prowess, his power. This morning however, she was definitely leading, and he went with it, his head groggy from that unexpected sleep on the couch. It was rare that he slept this late and it left him feeling disoriented.

She was so soft, her lips, her hands, those of a lady were soft except for the tiny calluses from her needlework. Her breasts lay heavy on his chest. There was a chance that when Odin chose a wife for Loki, he had only judged her by these particular assets. And, arguably, Sigyn had the best tits in Asgard. Possibly the whole nine realms. They were even bigger than his own in female form. Through the fog of his slightly sex addled mind  he wondered how she dealt with their weight all day, and realised that was possibly why she spent so much time sitting. He brushed the thought aside as her lips went lower and he let a moan escape his lips. She had never, never once offered him oral pleasures. He had, of course proved his title of Silvertongue a multitude of times over their marriage, but today, it seemed, she was trying to make a point. His last clear thought before all thought faded for a while, was that the minx had been holding out, biding her time to ply such skills, and he idly wondered where she had learned them. Luckily Loki had learned long ago to always be wary even in the throes of passion. He gave every appearance of melting completely under his wife’s ministrations and enjoyed them sure enough, but he held himself back, keeping his self and his will with it apart from his body. He needed to keep his wits about him for clearly his wife’s games were only beginning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sif & Loki spar down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing Sif I was listening to Elastic Heart by the indomitable Sia

Sif stood in the field where she regularly sparred with Loki, the hot sun warming her head and making her sweat already despite her idleness. They had planned a bout for this afternoon, but he was late, which was not his custom. She walked to where she had left her horse’s tack and pulled a water skin out, drinking of it generously. Her horse walked up to her and nibbled on her collar, and she scratched his nose and neck, muttering sweet nothings to him. She was rather hung over from the night before, having imbibed maybe a little too much, and she took comfort in his steadying presence. If she was honest, her night had very nearly been ruined by the Princess. Loki’s wife was a thoroughly wretched woman, a snake in the house of Odin, and she mourned for her friend who was bound to her. She snorted to herself at the irony. On the face of it, they were well suited, and if anyone could combat the manipulations of such a woman, it was Loki. But there was so much more to the Prince, and while people tended to dislike his methods, his plots and mechanisations were often for the benefit of the realm or defence of his comrades in battle. Sigyn’s were only ever to benefit Sigyn. It seemed to Sif that the woman had not one loyal bone in her body. She would sink the kingdom if it benefited her. It was good for the Allfather that being royalty in the Golden city was the highest she could get in the kingdom... Sif’s hands stilled and she frowned, ignoring her horse’s protests when she stopped. Sure, it was irritating when the woman, who somehow thought she was a rival made scathing comments and barely disguised insults her way, and she could be more respectful to the Allmother but would she really put Thor in danger in order to get her husband onto the throne? She considered it carefully, thinking of Sigyn’s behaviour so far, towards Odin, towards Thor, towards Queen Frigga and she decided she would be watching the woman a lot closer from that point onwards.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Loki finally appeared, popping out of nowhere which was his want. He didn’t really bother with many of his usual dramatic flourishes around Sif, he knew she preferred deadly precision and functionality to flair and drama. He usually rode his beloved mount to their meets but once she saw him, she realised why he was late, she saw he had been waylaid. She eyed him, smirking to herself. She had, of course, seen Sigyn dragging him away from the feast the night before, the wretched woman had made sure everyone had, and Loki stood before her presently looking thoroughly debauched. She usually left this kind of teasing to the boys, but in their absence decided to jibe him. “I see you’ve been busy Loki. The Princess had you punished for something?”

His smile held something like shyness and something like worry as he approached her, his easy gait belying his rather serious tone. “Yes, actually there is something I need to discuss with you. She ah.” His eyebrows knitted and he came to a stop before her. “Last night she accused me of having an affair.”

Sif’s eyebrows shot up. For all Loki was called the Dark Prince and the Liesmith around the realms, and for all he was absolutely a troublemaker, he had never in all the years she had known him cheated on a lover. “With who?” Loki only gave her a look and she released a disappointed huff of air and a few choice expletives. “How? What on earth made her think...?” she pulled a face, showing her distaste at the accusation. She had been young indeed when she had made _that_ particular mistake.

Loki frowned, his shoulders were stiff as he replied. His tone held an apology. “I should have seen that coming, actually. It was my mistake. It was my gift to you, for all it was innocently given. She has quite the eye for design, and recognised my hand in your ensemble last night.” He huffed a humourless laugh. “You know, I think she actually would have saved it up – in fact, she must have had her theories for some time, but she only brought it up last night because she was convinced you’d be starting new fashions and she was terribly jealous.”

Sif nodded. She had noticed the stares all night. The dress had been stunning, and it had felt incredibly good to wear, her torso supported in reassuring leather while the silken skirts swirled around her legs, dramatically highlighting her long and graceful stride. She had no idea how Loki came up with such perfect designs. She had seen the dresses he had commissioned for Sigyn, and of course, worn quite a few of his gifts over the centuries. They were always sensitively created for the recipient, with allowances to breasts and hips and movement. Things she could not fathom how he came to understand. Though when she thought of it, there were a few other things about the female body he had quite an intuitive gifting for so maybe she shouldn’t be surprised after all.

Loki wasn’t finished. He had a look of bitter remorse on his face, and she wondered what his wife had done to him to have him in such a state. “She knows, Sif. About us.” He cursed. “It was all about that blasted dress, but I didn’t know, so I told her the truth.”

Sif smiled at him, knocking his shoulder with her own. “It is alright, Shield Brother, I am not ashamed to be associated with you, and the news is harmless to my career these days. No one can say our relationship had anything to do with my success, not now.”

He smiled at her, a small, proud smile that had only ever been her own. She idly wondered if Sigyn owned any of Loki’s smiles. She’d hate to think what type of smile those would be. “No, and I do not think it could benefit her at all to release such information. Even so I feel we had kept it our secret for so long that it hurt to let go. And, I admit, to release it to someone I trust so little was painful indeed.”

Sif gave him a punch on the arm. He rarely talked of feelings thus. “She is your wife, for all you do not trust her. This is a truth I do not begrudge her.” The implication was there, of course, that there were many secrets she would ask him to keep for her still.

“I thank you, but that is not all.” He winced. “She wishes to come and view one of our spars.”

Sif’s eyebrows shot up. Sigyn had no interest whatsoever in fighting or the battle arts. She did, however, display incredibly possessive behaviour often enough and there was no doubt what this was about. The Princess was under the impression that she owned the body of the Prince, and was wanting to check that Sif was not overstepping her boundaries. “Now?” she asked incredulously. He shook his head. She spat in the dirt and wiped sweat from her brow, stretching her arms and back. Enough, it was time to fight. She was done with discussion at present.

Loki gave a small smile and took a few steps back, limbering up briefly before pulling his blades out of _somewhere_. Used to such displays of the arcane form him, she only pulled her shield and glaive from her back and readied herself, moving into a defensive stance. Loki did the same, for all his apparent lack of practice, his form was perfect. Too bad for him though, she thought smugly. Hers was immaculate. She made the first move, but he quickly replied. They both shook their various distractions from the night before and engaged completely in the present, circling round each other in the dirt. She concentrated on her breathing, bringing her consciousness to a point where she was able to be aware of the tiniest changes in her opponent’s stature, his most miniscule movements. He moved to the left, she correctly read it as a feint and moved to the right instead, meeting his long dagger with the staff of her glaive, twisting it and giving him a hard knock to the shoulder. He broke the hold and she chased him with another jab, which he blocked.

They carried on this way, with periods of intense stillness and concentration interspersed with bouts of fiercely athletic movement and calculated blows. This was the way of it between them, and this was what the Princess was worried about, and rightly so. Sif knew the woman’s husband’s body much more intimately than she ever would. They had grown up fighting together, and that had turned in time to passionate lovemaking that was often times as violent as their fighting, all teeth and nails and sweat and hair. She grinned viciously and gave Sigyn’s husband a well executed kick to the face. His neck snapped back and he took a moment to recuperate. She used the pause to take him down, twisting the other way and shoving him over with two firsts joined as one. A powerful kick to the chest was a dirty finish and she stood over him as he gasped and coughed, hiding the guilt she felt at punishing Loki for his wife’s evils behind a smile. “Do you yield?”

He looked up at her a little warily. It generally ended a little more gently, but not always. He knew who he was dealing with. He laughed. “Once again I yield to the Lady Sif.” She helped him up, and after a drink and a little rest to help Loki shake off seeing double after that kick to the head, they started once more. She enjoyed sparring with both of the princes most in the entire realm, with Hogan coming in third. All had their different strengths, and their weaknesses. One of the reasons she liked to keep her spars with Loki secret was so that the skills she honed regularly here could be used to take her stronger opponents by surprise. Loki was considerably more fast and flexible than her other comrades, and their spars were stretching in ways that Thor could never achieve. It was similar to a dance, though admittedly, she thought as one of Loki’s knives grazed her cheek as she moved out of the way just in time, they were a lot more painful. She grimaced and gave him a whack in the head in retribution. He grinned as he dodged and kicked her in the thigh, giving her a bruise she would remember for a while. She smiled back and they fought on into the afternoon, their peculiar friendship growing ever stronger, and to hell with his wife. She would have to deal with it. As Loki took her by surprise and she ended up on the ground with a blade to her throat she grinned. The Princess would soon be finding that Loki was full of surprises and rather difficult to hold on to. Sif had given up within five decades. How long Sigyn would last remained to be seen. The woman may not be loyal to anyone but Sif knew that strange as it was, Loki was loyal to his shield sister. No, she decided. She would not fight Sigyn over her husband like the wretch wanted her to. She had nothing to hide where the prince was concerned. Sigyn seemed not to realise how precarious her current path was, and Sif intended to leave it to Loki and enjoy watching how his game would play out. She let the prince help her up and they laughed together over a private joke before once again returning to positions.

 Sif eyed Loki with a look of mischief masking her face. He eyed her, his smile appearing in response to her own. They had ever schemed together thus. “I have an idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being a tomboy most of my life, I love writing Sif.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lady Loki's song is Straight for the Knife by Sia

It hadn’t been the next day that Loki had commissioned those gowns, but the day after that he did indeed go to his favourite tailor in Alfhiem. He had access to the royal tailors of course, but these particular individuals took care of secret commissions of many different kinds for him, and they were very good at keeping quiet about it, whether it was a gown for the Allmother or, as in this case, an entire wardrobe for his female form. He had purchased some regular clothing from the markets, however he was in need of some light armour and other more formal elements if he was to follow through on his plans to visit the Fire Queen in Muspellheim. And the other excellent thing about this particular tailor was that they worked in partnership with a dwarf of some skill. Her armour always fit the body exquisitely, allowing for the type of movement that Loki executed in his battle forms, and as a team elf and dwarf did things with metal and fabric that both pleased the eye and protected the vital organs, something one in the Royal family must always be wary of. Especially one who had made as many enemies as he had. They were also genius when it came to stowed weapons.

He had been thinking about necessary details over various visits of the royal tailor to Sigyn’s rooms in past months, taking the opportunity to ponder while there were swathes of fabric strewn all over the apartments as she ordered countless gowns and hats and whatever else, and his discussions with his associates were extremely fruitful. Presently, as he stood in front of the large copper mirror in his secret workspace, he was very pleased. This might just be the best suit of armour they’d made yet. He had experimented with Sif’s habit of tying his hair into a tail like a pony, but felt it was uncomfortable, swinging with every movement of his head. Instead, it lay stiffly in two braids trailing down both sides of his back and tied in leather. The armour they had designed took full advantage of the fact that he was not a prince in this form, and therefore did not need to draw attention to himself in battle as a rallying point. Doing away with such necessary pomp and flair it was black, the magically strengthened metal having been treated with something to bring it to a satisfying black matte finish. The wily Dwarf had also magically bespelled it to remain cool in the sun, and Loki was very grateful for that and had paid her amply in response. No reflection of light glinted off of the various plates as he moved, and metal looked almost interchangeable with the supple leather that made up the rest of the armour. The colour he had chosen to be prominent in this form’s wardrobe was lilac. The long under tunics of this suit were in this colour, contrasting rather deliciously with all of that black where it showed between his leather skirts. His under clothes were also in lilac, showing through in the joins of his sleeves though his leather leggings were black. He had other clothes made, ones fit for the warm weather in Muspellheim, but the woman of the Fire Giant race were warriors by nature, and he imagined he would find himself fighting more than enough to make decent armour worth the effort. He moved through the various forms that he had been taught, as well as those he had taught himself. He used a staff, knowing the fire giants favoured the spear and wanting to be proficient.

His centre of gravity was different in this form, though after a while he found himself able to adjust. The armour had the added bonus of supporting his bust, as well as some bindings the tailor had made for him which supported the heavy breasts under normal clothing. They were of lace and silk, and others were of leather. He found he enjoyed this ability to be fully female. He was ever familiar with clothing and textile as he had learned magic at his mother’s feet, first learning magic as weaving and embroidery. He was very proficient with needle and thread, though lately those skills had mostly been used on the battle field as emergency care for his shield brothers or sister. Each of their group had at least one scar which represented his particular skill, vastly different than those marks made by similar efforts of the others. Loki paused, distracted by his tails whipping into his face as he pulled a particular manoeuvre. That wouldn’t do. He pulled out some pins and moved to the mirror. Experimenting, he pinned his braids into a crown form at the top of his head and smiled. That would do it. He started that set of forms again and went through to the end happy with the results. The braids held and stayed out of the way.

The sun was once again leaning through the window as he finished practicing and he grimaced. He was having dinner with his recently very clingy wife. As much as the increased regularity of sex was doing wonders for his moods, Sigyn’s obvious schemes were trying his patience. He sighed. In a few days he would embark on a journey for a month at minimum, keeping his promise to the Fire Queen almost a decade ago that he would experience the monthly bleeding at least once before entering her realm claiming to be female. He would have to live full time in this form until that happened. The residents of the palace were well accustomed to Loki disappearing on his own travels once in a while. As trouble hardly ever followed him home when he travelled by himself Odin allowed it. Though he was technically supposed to stay in Asgard these days due to previous mischief, the king knew that Loki would go mad if kept from walking the skies and ways. It was part of his nature. He was Chaos, and as such travel was a part of his natural being. He could not stay still for too long lest he grow terribly bored and anybody that was acquainted with Loki knew that was always when the real trouble started.

He took off his armour piece by piece, still learning the unfamiliar buckles and joints but noticing that his hands were just as dextrous as in his normal form. He smiled. He had not yet sought his pleasure in this body, but after the exercise, with his blood pumping he was tempted. He shook it off after a moment of contemplation. He had yet to bathe and prepare his various gifts for his wife for this eve. For she was not the only one playing games. He had decided it was time to take a stronger hand in his marriage, that it was becoming necessary for her to know just who she was dealing with. It was a delicate game, for while he had many in the palace he was loyal to, she had only herself to please. He had no illusions she held any feelings for him except those that resulted from what his position gave her. He shook himself and took off the last of his black and lilac garb. He had yet to come up with a name for this identity but was pretty certain it would be Astrid. He usually had codes and hidden meanings to all of his identities but this form seemed to be its own thing. He just liked the colour lilac and liked the sound of Astrid. Perhaps it was that mythical female intuition. He wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be true. More woman than men had natural abilities as far as magic was concerned, and there were many magics which were only able to be completed by females. It was totally possible that there was a natural ability to feel things in the atmosphere males were unable to sense. He liked this form the more time he spent in it. It was with reluctance that he changed over, though his true self was a relief all the same. He quickly dressed and went through the motions to make the room look abandoned and empty if it were discovered. He always did this as his activities in this workroom as the activities he participated in were often mischievous at the very least and nefarious or considered unnatural by the general population of Asgard, but he must away, he was due to meet his wife. Tomorrow they would be meeting Sif for their weekly bout, and Loki aimed to have Sigyn thoroughly spoiled and under no doubt of his being under whatever spell she was trying for. And she had been trying. Though he enjoyed all of her efforts it took actual magic to put him under. He had been surprised by her once, and for that she would pay. He had been obedient to his father’s wishes with this marriage. Though it had been thrown upon him hastily and through underhanded means he had gone with it, but she was threatening his friends, now, and he hadn’t liked how she had looked at his mother, like she was picturing herself in that job. It was little known about the realm, but while Loki Odinson might wish to be king one day, or at least have some kind of political role, happy to be supporting his brother; he wasn’t too keen for it to happen just yet. He was young, and until relatively recently, care free. This woman was causing him to feel restricted, despite everything he had given her- in spite of his own desires, and it was time for her to learn not to play with vipers. For while she was a snake herself, she had no idea who she was dealing with. He smirked as he walked through the halls of the royal wing. Sif had had her own ideas for the Princess which he had liked indeed. They were ideas straight from her own experience on the training fields.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn attends a spar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When writing Sigyn, I listened to The Socialites by The Dirty Projectors.  
> Fandral's song is The Futurehead's cover of Kate Bush's Hounds of Love.

Sif smiled as she rode with the Thor and the warriors three. They were headed to their practice with Loki and Sigyn. It wasn’t entirely a ruse. They did in fact often journey to a separate field in order to spar and play battle in an area without of the safety spell work in place. It made things more interesting and kept them on their toes. Loki was meeting them there due to Sigyn’s unnatural fear of horses and Sif wondered idly how his horse was dealing with his extended absence. She stroked her own mount’s neck. She hated to be separated from Socks too often, generally visiting him daily whether she took him out or not. The staff at the palace stables did an excellent job but Loki and she had always preferred to do much of the necessary care of their mounts when time allowed. Loki’s Snowflake was as fastidiously groomed as the prince himself was, never seen in public without plaited mane and gleaming flanks. They had always made a proud and handsome pair. Snowflake, of course had gained his name at the same time that Socks did, when they were young and everything was a joke. They had named their mounts silly little nonsense pet names that belied the fearsome and battle hardened beasts that they were. They had grown up with them, entering their first battles with their riders and maturing as they did. Thor’s beloved mount had been named Rex, a lovely fearsome red gelding that he had lost in a skirmish with trolls two centuries ago. She knew he still mourned him, for all he loved his new steed, one with a much more sensible name. She remembered Thor’s face as he put his own beast to death, she and Loki standing by his side and holding Rex down. For all the killing they had all partaken in by that time that was something that scarred you indeed. She had paid especial attention to Socks for a long time afterwards, treasuring his comforting presence and unending loyalty. She knew Loki had kept Snowflake close also.

They arrived presently at their chosen meadow and took care of their mounts, untacking them and allowing them to wander among the grass and clover. The five horses cheerfully complied. Sif wondered if they communicated at all, for they were just as much friends and comrades as their riders were, fighting together and playing together so often over the centuries. She smiled and took a breath of the warm summer air. She started stretching and limbering up with the others. They intended to make a day of it, and fighting with blades was less dangerous by this time than exercising without warming up. They were more likely to pull a muscle badly than they were to get cut. She grinned a little viciously as she wondered how Loki was doing with his wife. He was likely to get punished after this but he was a big boy he’d manage. Her thoughts were interrupted by the Prince and Princess, both dressed in practice armour. Sif grinned, hiding the malice she felt behind a friendly wave. “Good morrow your highnesses.” Loki gave her an exhausted looking smile over his wife’s head.

Thor excitedly ran up to the two, exclaiming loudly at Sigyn’s outfit. Sif had to give it to Loki and the mysterious armourer he used, the suit was a thing of beauty. She was dressed head to toe in periwinkle blue and silver, her buckles gleaming in the summer light and the blue of the dyed leather and silk tunics making her blue eyes gleam along with it. It was more ornamental than functional, but for all that Sif would not begrudge fighting in it. For all this was a little bit of fun Loki had actually given his wife a beautiful, fully functional gift and she hoped the Princess realised that. She moved over to give her own compliments, smiling gaily as if surprised by the princess’ presence. She could see Sigyn was seething under her polite greetings and light discussion. Volstagg and Fandral made a huge show of their delight in her presence as they always did, Hogan bowed formally, and she slowly seemed to relax. This wasn’t an ambush then; she had simply been invited to a friendly day in the fields with her husband’s friends. They all fought and argued over who would start off, Sif jumped in and challenged Thor to begin. The Prince’s grin had bite as it always did when she taunted him the right way and they moved to the large circle Loki had carved in the dirt, magically warding it and at the same time hardening the ground and clearing it of grass. For all they teased him incessantly it was rather handy having a magician around for such things. She looked to where he was laying a blanket and cushions out for his wife to sit daintily on and chuckled to herself. The poor man. Thor demanded her attention then, and Sif pushed all from her mind. They bowed to each other and Thor started proceedings with his usual tactic, attack with Mjolnir. It was a good fight, the brutally physical nature of Thor’s attacks waking her body up, and her bloodlust with it. The point of today was to show the Princess that they all got up close and personal with each other. Despite the intimacy in her relationship with Loki, Sif actually knew Thor’s body just as well, as well as Volstagg’s, Fandral’s and Hogan’s. The only difference was that she knew how to give Loki pleasure, where with the other men; it was all about bringing pain, and a thorough thrashing. As this was the lesson of the day, she spent a lot of time close to Thor, using a particularly intimate wrestling move to finally bring him to the ground, toppling him like a great oak. She straddled him presently, panting as she demanded he yield with a dagger to his throat. He only grinned as he heaved from the ground using those muscled legs of his, each as thick as a tree. She jumped to safety and the fight was back on. The Prince was giving as good as he got and she took Mjolnir to the chest, though it only clipped her as she bent backwards gymnastically to avoid a full hit. She turned it into a somersault and spun out of the way as the owner of the hammer called it to him. That really was an irritating trick when he wasn’t on your side. She swung her glaive at his head and he met it, and they continued. It ended when Thor finally got Sif on the ground, his foot on her chest and a laugh in his throat. She shook her head as she grinned. She truly hadn’t seen that kick to the face coming. Thor helped her up as Hogan and Volstagg took to the ring.

...

Sigyn sighed in boredom. She knew this had been her idea but really, her idea was to catch her husband and the warrior whore in a whole web of sexual tension and dishonourable conduct. She was convinced that her husband was being unfaithful to her. It was bound to happen, after all, she had been unfaithful to him their entire marriage. It never counted when it was just the serving boys, but an affair with a lady of the court was another thing entirely. She had been thoroughly enjoying the special attention Loki had been paying her of late. His prowess in the bedchamber was definitely not to be sniffed at and she slowly saw him loosening up and falling for her charms. She was Sigyn, and she deserved to be worshipped and adored. This scarred, manish wretch sweating in the ring before her was no match for her. She gazed at her husband lazily. No, Loki was hers, and no one else could have him. She intended to make sure of that. He turned, sensing her eyes on him and she smiled, thinking of an especially pleasing thing that he did to her the night before and holding that in her eyes as he returned her gaze. Yes, she owned the Prince; there was no doubt of it. Now she only had to ensure that nobody else did at the same time. She had never liked sharing after all. The couple’s exchange was broken as the warriors three cheered raucously, bringing Loki’s attention back to the ring. He chuckled, clearly amused as Sif pinned Thor below her in a rather sexual manner. She clearly didn’t care who was between her legs, just so long as he was a prince. Whore. Thor heaved up and threw her off of him in a show of brute strength. Sigyn tried to hide her look of distaste. She had no idea what the masses of desperate courtiers saw in the man. He was like a giant puppy, with the brains of one. No, she had no interest in bedding the golden prince. She took her husband’s hand in hers, lacing her fingers through his long dextrous own. Again she eyed him with barely disguised want and smiled as he looked back at her through ebony lashes. _My handsome Prince_ she thought, and wished she had not asked him to come here. She could think of a thousand things she’d rather be doing than sitting in a dirty field watching brutes run into each other.

She had to admit to a certain pleasure that he was so willing to show her this part of his life. She knew he took his martial responsibilities seriously, and the bond he had with his shield brothers and sister was close indeed. For all she assumed this was a set up they were all behaving as if this was something they did all the time. For all they had been welcoming of her presence they hadn’t made any more fuss than they usually did. Sigyn knew when she was being performed to and all her keen eyes saw was a bunch of friends doing something they always did. She looked down at her attire. She had been shocked when her husband had pulled out his gifts over breakfast in bed. The sheets had been deliciously messed up again from their various activities the night before and he had been deliciously naked before her as he pulled each gift from thin air. Oh how she adored his power. She had hungered for it like a woman starved for so many centuries, watching him covetously at feasts and events and conspiring for a way to have him. She had been delighted with the gifts. He had kept his promise. Each dress he offered her was more beautiful than the last, some riffing on the same idea of an armoured bodice, though much more ornate and elegant than the one he had given to that wench. These were fit for a princess. Then there was the jewelry, some bracelets, like gauntlets to match the armour of one of the dresses, and a necklace to match. They were beautiful, undoubtedly of Dwarven make. But then he had one more surprise for her. Garments designed for battle games. She had tried to hide her dismay but her husband wasn’t stupid, and he saw it and frowned, disappointed. “But you asked to join us in a spar. I only thought...” and he had looked down at the beautifully made ensemble spread on the bed with dismay. She had crumbled then, despite herself, and asked him to help her dress. When she was wearing it the look he gave her was worth it. She had no doubt he would take much pleasure in undressing her this evening, and she wryly thought she might enjoy it also. She had to admit, she thought as she looked up to see Sif collapse as Thor’s kick to her face connected, these clothes really are comfortable. The doeskin britches under her skirts were extremely supple and the nature of the leather breastplate supported her endowments much better than anything else she had ever worn. Perhaps it was the support of her back as well as the front that did it, but it was a relief all the same. For all she was proud of her most effective of natural charms they did cause her no small amount of pain. That was all made worth it however, by the look her husband always gave her when he looked up at her as she sat astride him in the bedchamber. That look of awe was really up there in the small list of things that made Sigyn happy. Considering the rest of those things consisted of precious objects or royal titles, he should be pleased. She may not love him, but he sometimes made her happy. She delicately stifled a yawn as two more warriors entered the ring and the unbearable Sif came to sit next to her, stinking of sweat and horses. Really. She was filthy. How could a Lady bear such a thing? She tried to hide her displeasure as the wretch spoke.

“Enjoying yourself Princess?” Sif bit into an apple and eyed the ring as Hogan and Volstagg bowed to each other.

“Oh I don’t know, the way Loki speaks of these practices I thought it would be more... lively.” She said, not hiding the boredom in her tone.

“I’m sorry my love, but you seemed so interested? Would you like me to take you home? Or fetch your embroidery?”

Sif levelled a measuring gaze at Sigyn as her husband offered an escape and Sigyn raised her chin. No, she would stay. She would not be scared away by Lady Sif, who clearly thought these warriors her harem or something just as unnatural. “No thankyou darling though maybe the embroidery if you don’t mind. I find it is lovely to have something to do with my hands.” He nodded and rose.

“Of course my Love.” He said with something undefinable in his smile and disappeared. Oh she had loved travelling with him that way this morning, loved the power that had flushed through her system as they magiked themselves to this godforsaken field. Really, who would travel on a smelly beast when they had that option? She knew Loki loved his beloved Snowflake and so often smelled like horse. She couldn’t stand it. Between that awful beast and his books, she barely saw him. He returned presently with a basket one of her ladies had packed for her. A piece she was working on for her husband. It was a tunic of emerald linen she was working into with thread of the same colour. For all that being in a field was somewhat distasteful, Sigyn saw that in fact the light outside was rather good for this kind of work. She could see the separate threads in the design clearly. She smiled her thanks and got to work. This was much more civilized. She saw Sif assess the work critically and didn’t hide it away. Next to the Queen and a few of her contemporaries, she didn’t know of many Aesir ladies who had the skills at embroidery that she herself did. Sigyn over stated her prowess in a few matters but in these she didn’t need to. She was good at it. She knew that Sif wasn’t actually bad in the skills of the needle, as people always tended to say. She had only chosen to wield sharp objects of a different nature. Her skills obviously passed muster because Sif only nodded and took another ill-mannered bite into the apple, turning her eyes back to the ring where Hogan held the chain of his weapon around Volstagg’s neck, bringing him down. If this was how these people treated their friends she would hate to see them on the battle field. The tales that came back were enough detail for her. The two warriors settled their dispute and Fandral turned to Loki with a smile.

“Ready to be thrashed are you Fandral?”

The dashing warrior laughed. “Oh I’m not so sure Loki, I’m feeling rather good today, let’s see if you’re quick enough to avoid my blade.”

Sigyn wondered just how these fools thought they could get away with letting a Prince bleed. They were supposed to defend their royal lieges, not do the work of the enemy for them. She turned to Thor to ask as the two smaller men of the group bowed to each other. Both men had a flair for drama, and there was no small amount of performance to their start. “Ah but my Lady, we as princes must be able to protect ourselves. If our friends and tutors held back as we practiced it would have us at a disadvantage, and one that could have disastrous consequences. No, it is much better for our friends to be fierce and push us to our limits in the practice field, for there are many who are not as fond of us as this pack of scoundrels, and they mean us no small harm.”

Sigyn nodded her understanding and shaded her eyes with a hand as she watched her husband athletically leap over a low sword blow. She admired his skill while also admiring his body. She knew what was under that armour intimately, and smiled remembering how well it worked in other ways. She quickly shot a look to Sif, but the warrior was lazily lying on her side, chewing the apple and watching the two in the ring as if she’d seen it a thousand times. And, Sigyn thought, she probably had seen it that much. She turned back to the ring where Fandral blocked a knife blow and punched Loki in the jaw, the blow knocking his head back but not slowing his next attack, or his flexible avoidance of the sword blade swung to his side. Though she was no expert, she could see that the warriors knew each other’s bodies and style of fighting, pre-empting attacks before they happened and knowing weaknesses. She saw Loki place a high kick to Fandral’s shoulder, pushing the warrior back though not felling him. Fandral swung his weapon again and clipped Loki on the upper arm, though the blade was stopped by his armour. Sigyn noticed she was clenching her fists and took a deep breath. It was alright, Fandral would never hurt the prince. Loki said something to the other and he laughed, his delighted chuckle ringing over the meadow. They exchanged blows, seemingly at an impasse. Either could win this bout. Fandral, Sigyn knew was a swords master, and though he bragged more about swinging a sword of a different kind, she knew he was just as deadly as the others here. He was the one friend of her husband’s that she got a long with, being acquainted with many of the same people and having similar interests. Seeing him wield his weapon of choice was seeing him in a different light. He was lithe and devastatingly quick. Loki, of course was even more flexible and far faster, snapping and bending and leaping in a very impressive avoidance of Fandrals clever blade moves. It was like a strange dance and Sigyn was mesmerised. One of Loki’s blades skimmed Fandral’s open collar and nicked his neck. He didn’t even flinch, just followed through on his planned move, a complicated weave of his weapon that ended with Loki on his back leg, using two daggers to block the thrust. She saw him grit his teeth and was unexpectedly aroused at the expression. Really, this whole display was making her think of possibilities. Fandral used Loki’s position to kick out at him and the Prince went down, rolling with the fall and leaping up again just in time to miss the plunging sword edge. Fandral really wasn’t holding back. The two men stood in defensive positions, eyeing one another as they both caught their breath. Something struck her as odd and she again turned to Thor who was watching the fight, completely still as his eyes followed every movement. “Why doesn’t he use magic?”

Thor and Volstagg laughed, “Because, Princess Sigyn, then we would all lose.” Volstagg said, laughing. They all seemed amused at something, though knew not what.

Hogan looked at her seriously. “We only test the physical here. We appreciate Loki’s magic in aid on the battle field but we insist he trains his body to be as sharp as his mind. Some day he may find he does not have magic to aid him, and we must be assured our Prince will survive with only his body and his at his disposal.” His solemn tone was so serious she could only assume he had seen Loki in such a position.

“Has this happened before?”

They all quieted. “Yes.” Thor said, but they gave no detail, and she asked for none.

She nodded and they all turned their full attention back to the ring where Loki was straddling Fandral, much as Sif had done to Thor. The larger warrior’s arms were pinned under Loki’s strong thighs and he couldn’t move. “Fine, I yield.” Could be heard, though it was said quietly, and Loki stood smoothly, offering his hand to the other. She was a little displeased that she had missed his victory, but it was interesting to find out that he had been in the type of danger that would scare such fierce warriors as Hogan and Thor. For that’s what it was, the expression that had been on their faces, fear. It must have been a bad day indeed.

Loki approached her with a large grin on his face and he grabbed a water skin to drink. She eyed him. He might be stinking rather a lot but she found him a delicious picture to behold in this moment. She let him know with her gaze and he replied in kind. Sif interrupted. “Who’s next? Lady? Would you like to have a spar?”

Sigyn frowned in her displeasure. “My thanks, no. I’d really rather not.”

Fandral jumped in. “But my Lady you are all dressed for the occasion! Come, I will teach you how to use a sword.”

“I’d recommend it my love, for what will happen if I am not there to protect you?” Loki said quietly, looking at her with such concern that she folded. Oh he really was the sweetest for all he was a bore. They all nodded. So. This was an ambush after all. She tipped her chin up, showing her disapproval, but put her needlework away. The others all paired up also, leaving her to work with Fandral in private.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We meet our first OC. Brun's song in While You Wait for the Others by Grizzly Bear, preferably the version feat. Michael McDonald (his voice is divine.)
> 
> Just a warning that Sigyn gets physically abusive in this chapter. I don't know what your triggers are, but if that is something you are phased by, please look after yourself and sit the first section of this chapter out x

Sigyn’s howls of discontent rattled through the apartments she shared with Loki, causing any servant who wasn’t completing a task of immediate importance bolt for the nearest exit. In Loki’s rooms the Prince’s valet Brun stood stock still as his master’s wife threw her tantrum before him. For all he wished he did not have to deal with her he did not begrudge Prince Loki his absences, for he knew the Prince far better than any in the realm, perhaps besides his mother, for she had the sight. He knew how necessary quiet and movement were to the scholar and sorcerer, how precious those moments he could snatch in his own company were.

The Princess never behaved like this when the Master was about, but it was a regular occurrence when he was not. Brun was well practiced at keeping his expression passive and his sighs of impatience at bay. He had learned from the best, after all. “He just left me? Did he say where he was going?” the woman gave a petulant pout that would usually be seen on a child of five, not an intelligent woman of seven centuries.

Brun never knew where his master went on his journeys. He often saw the injuries that resulted, heard the ramblings spoken in his sleep as nightmares plagued the prince because of his dark paths, but never did he know the details. And if he was honest, he’d rather not. Palace life was all Brun knew. He knew these apartments and the Prince’s former rooms. He knew the servants paths and the palace halls and a few of his master’s haunts but that was all. He lived to serve Prince Loki and had done so for as long as he could remember. There were clues however, as he always aided His master with supplies and equipment before his journeying. This particular time, Brun expected the prince to come back with very little in the way of injury or scarring. It was highly likely that he was going to one of the royal hunting lodges in Asgard’s beautiful countryside. There he would most probably be getting lost in some books and texts without disturbance. “Some problems,” he had told Brun so many times “Take a long time to process, and if you are interrupted you must start the whole process again.” The valet had seen Loki lost in thought for days at a time. Only he had observed the glittering ecstasy on the Prince’s face when he finally came to a conclusion at the end of such an event, and he would not begrudge him such a thing, for few were the joys of the Second Prince, and in Brun’s opinion, few were more deserving of happiness. Loki lived and worked to serve Asgard. Many of these journeys had directly affected the safety of this realm and beyond. No one knew of course. Without Thor’s charismatic smile and heroic figure Loki tended not to tell his stories of true heroism, and most of the time he was happier that way.

So Brun might have clues as to the Prince’s whereabouts, but he’d possibly die before telling his wretch of a wife if it meant she would intrude upon his happiness any more than she already did. She had caused the Prince no end of grief. “No, your Highness, he never informs me where he is going, or when, he is the Prince, and he owes me no answers.” The lady’s eyes narrowed and she huffed unprettily, her bosoms shaking in their rather unsteady home. She was only half dressed when she came to see her husband this morning, and discovered him gone. Brun kept his gaze straight ahead, not at all interested in his master’s wife’s charms. There was no doubt that she was beautiful on the outside, but he was quite aware of his mistress’ ugly spirit. He was an elf and as such, he could see more than that which the eye beheld. He saw the strike coming before it landed, and was braced for it. The hand shaped sting rang across his cheek and jaw but he didn’t even flinch. It was chased with another, one which unfortunately clipped his eye. Again he stood firm.

“Don’t you lie to me you wretched Elf! Where is he? Is he off with that _bitch_? Trust you to hide an affair from your Princess!”

Brun didn’t get pulled in by her obvious attempt to get him to blabber in fear for his master’s reputation. The Princess was well aware of Loki’s fidelity. She knew that Loki had nothing to hide; he only enjoyed secrecy, being a private person. Brun would protect that privacy from anyone, but he enjoyed protecting it from this woman the most. “My master takes no one on his travels, Madam, but himself.”

She fumed but left, slamming the golden door behind her. Brun waited until the sounds faded to the other side of the apartments before he allowed himself to rub his stung jaw. Loki would be gone for a while and wouldn’t see the bruise that was already blossoming on his cheekbone. He finished the task he had been completing before the woman had intruded upon her husband’s quarters, polishing his armour and sharpening his knives. Loki had taken his favourite hunting set with him, but left the rest for him to see to in his absence. Catching his refection in the shiny wall of the chamber Brun saw it was purpling at a rather fast rate. He would have to see a healer about it so as not to embarrass the house of Loki. He finally allowed himself a sigh, meticulously tucking everything away to return to later and disappearing though the secret servant’s entrance to the apartments. He hoped that wherever his master was, he was enjoying some hard earned quiet.

...

Loki was seething. He had left in the dark of the morning, the birds just beginning their song. His valet, Brun had prepared everything he had asked and it had been waiting for him at his leisure. Of course he had caught Loki sneaking out of the apartment using the servant’s way, Brun, however was a treasure of a servant, happy with his lot in life and very loyal to the Prince. He had only bowed and wished him safely on his way, stating that he would see to Loki’s armour in his absence if that was OK. Loki had nodded and smiled, giving the valet a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stalking away in the shadowy passage. He wouldn’t say that Brun was a friend, precisely, but Loki was very fond of him. He had been a very through and efficient way of working and seemed to rather enjoy Loki’s fastidious nature, doing everything he could to support him. He had kept all kinds of secrets over the centuries, including the silly ones, such as how Loki had come to wear so much black (ink and potion stains) and all those things that Loki would simply rather not tell anybody. He enjoyed a small amount of admiration, but could not abide the amount that women and men alike fawned over his brother; he would never get anything done.

 He had forgotten a detail, a message that he had wanted to send his mother and sent a shadow back to the palace to inform his valet. Before the shadow had materialised fully, however, he had seen his wife mistreating him abysmally. Admittedly, Loki wasn’t the easiest to serve. He spilled potions and ink and knocked over candles and left books in odd places. He sometimes snapped when he was distracted- which was often, and he preferred them not to be around all the time, asking only for quiet and privacy in his own chambers. He tried, however, to always treat them with respect and never to hit them- especially for something so small. He could see the bruise purpling Brun’s eye and cheek as his wife continued to spit venom at him and he bristled. This would not do. He hadn’t any idea that her poisonous nature affected the servants so. This would have to be dealt with; however, he would have to think how. Any obvious address of the situation would fall back on the servants. It would have to be delicate.

He clicked at Snowflake to continue onwards, the path covered in pine leaves and the smell of conifer in the air. It really was lovely to be out of the Palace. It was amazing how unaware one could be of the discomfort one is in. sure; he knew he needed to get away but once he was out of the city. He became aware that his skin was no longer itching, his hackles were no longer up, he was no longer aware of the whispers that tended to happen around him anywhere he walked. No, this was much better. Snow was ecstatic to be out of the palace with his master and Loki had let him set the pace once they’d found the path that would lead them to their destination, working out his excitement and pent up energy for a while before slowing to an easier gait. Their destination was actually remarkably close to the city, just an easy day’s ride. It was almost as if the rest of his family had forgotten about this particular cottage. Loki had not, and he used it fairly regularly to get away and study a problem, or in preparation to make one for someone else. He smiled. This would be the perfect place to live and breathe as a woman for an extended amount of time. There was a stream full of fish and a wood with easy hunting, and the forests held many edible delights that anyone with the knowledge could make use of. Brun had made sure he was well stocked with everything else.

The sun was setting just as they came to the cottage, the golden walls almost unseen between the growth of vines and other plant life left to grown unchecked in this forgotten corner of the forest. That suited Loki’s purposes fine. He allowed himself to smile and relax as he checked his various magical protections and saw that they were all undamaged and untouched. He dismounted and took care of Snowflake’s needs, leading him round to the small yard and shelter for such a purpose. As much as Loki tended to avoid physical labour, preferring to use magic wherever possible to save time and energy for things that were more important he never neglected this chore. He picked his shoes, making sure there were no rocks or worse damaging Snow’s feet before working him over with a currycomb till he was gleaming, and unbraiding his hair before combing that out. Making sure there was plenty of food and water for the beast and fresh straw in the shelter Loki finally took his packs and saddlebags into the cottage. Snowflake gave him a head butt as he left and he kissed him on the nose before dimming the lights and leaving the horse to his own company for the night.

The cottage was just as he left it. He hadn’t been able to get away for a while, but the truth was that since Loki’s marriage he’d been escaping here several times a year when he wasn’t sojourning alone or questing with his brother, Sif and the others. He motioned and the mage lights lit around the small building, reflecting from the gold walls of the structure charmingly. He dumped the packs on the table and took himself into the bedchamber to change. Standing in front of the golden mirror he undressed and gazed at his male form for the last time hopefully in a while. Then he whispered the words of change.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some moments

Sigyn allowed her girl to dress her in her armour. Her irritating husband had not only left her alone, but had instructed that she continue lessons with Fandral in a tone that brooked no argument. She bristled. How dare he boss her around like some lower class citizen? Her girl pulled her buckles a little too tight and she slapped her. It would do no good to spoil the help. Finally she was dressed and she walked through the halls to the royal practice ring. At least she didn’t have to go through the embarrassment of training with the military. She shuddered. She saw the way those base beasts looked at her. Wanting her. It was only natural, of course, but they had no right to lay eyes on her. She was a princess. The beasts she had no idea how lady Sif let them touch her, though she didn’t begrudge the woman for taking pleasure in beating every one of them repeatedly. She’d heard all about her prowess in the ring from Thor and his entourage. Maybe training would be helpful.

She strolled into her destination feigning confidence. At least Loki had picked Fandral. Out of the four of Thor’s friends, he was the least disgusting. He at least bathed, and knew how to speak to women. She did wonder why he hadn’t chosen Sif, and decided perhaps that he didn’t want to know what Sigyn would do to the other woman if given a blade. Sigyn smiled wickedly at the thought. Fandral, dressed in slightly better practice gear than usual, gave an elegant bow.  “Princess. I hope you have come ready to learn.”

Sigyn sighed, resisting an eye roll. “Only because my husband asks it. I swear if it ever comes to me defending myself then surely the kingdom will be in a dire place.”

Fandral’s face was serious. “You would think such, but perhaps you could ask the queen about the times she had to use her own devices to survive- or the times she saved the entire realm. There is certainly no harm in being prepared, your highness.” His tone held none of its usual jovial charm. How dare he speak to her like a child?

“Do you think to reprimand me, Fandral?” she huffed, crossing her arms.

Fandral nodded. “It may displease you but I have been ordered by Odin King himself as well as the Princes two to teach you to fight. This gives me the authority to reprimand. Believe me, Princess, I am a much easier taskmaster than any of the others, but I will not go easy on you.” He pulled out two metal objects. “Now, Highness, If you would take these, and take a few turns around the ring?”

She gave him a blank look. “You wish me to run?”

He smiled, “Not yet, you’ll have to work up to that. For now we shall walk.”

Sigyn almost growled in her anger. Loki was going to pay for this.

...

Sif gave a happy sigh as she and Socks broke out of Valhalla, the capital of Asgard. Socks happily picked up the pace as they left civilisation for a while. She rarely got a chance to hunt solo, as usually one of the warriors or Princes found out and before she knew it her alone time was filled with men. She had parted ways with her most recent lover when the lady had heard that apparently Sif was sleeping with the Dark Prince. She hadn’t even bothered to argue, just laughed. The two brunettes had been lovers for half a century and no one had had a clue. If she had actually been sleeping with Loki, this fool wouldn’t have heard a whisper. She’d said as much, “After all, _darling_ , no one in the court knows how much you like it when I sit on your face, all bloody and sweaty after a fight. It doesn’t pay to listen to gossip.” And the lady had blushed, for she did like it, and was ashamed. So they parted ways, after Sif had given her some memories to remember her by. She didn’t mind the loss too much. Though she hadn’t had a man since Loki, she had never had much trouble finding a bed partner. And none of them ever talked. Not even Loki knew who Sif took to her bed, though admittedly that was mostly because he didn’t care to know. She laughed aloud and thought of Sigyn. Apparently the foolish woman had decided to spread rumours about Sif and her husband. There were always a few going around, it wasn’t new. Sif had heard all about her own harem from a few of the warriors. The brutes had thought it funny to tease her about such a thing right before she gave them a beating in the ring. If she wanted to, she could easily have a harem, though she doubted it would include the Princes. She snorted. As if she would sleep with Thor. She’d heard of it happening in other realms. It wasn’t for her, however. Sex had become something for the sole purpose of letting off steam. She rarely kept a lover for more than a few months, though sometimes they would return after a few years. Sigyn had played wrong. Nobody believed that Loki and herself could even be friends, let alone lovers. They were almost cold to each other in public, speaking in coded insults and jibes. They had been playing this game far longer than the Princess. Used to the higher echelons of the court, and the behaviour expected. Sigyn had come from lower nobility, a testament to her luck in gaining the prince. She was from the far reaches of Asgard, from the country. She had learned fast and been successful, but she had nothing on War, nor Chaos.

“Ughh.” Sif shook herself. She’d taken leave to get away from the palace and its politics. All she wanted was the stars, the forest, and some worthy prey to hunt; with only Socks for companionship she was quite content. She gave him a pat on the neck and increased their pace once more. A hard ride was what she needed to clear her head. She leaned closer to his back and they flew through the countryside.

...

Loki had been gone for a week, and Sigyn was getting a familiar itch. It wasn’t so much that she was addicted to sex, but that she was addicted to the adoration that came with the act. She was a goddess and she liked to be worshipped. She had been practicing every day with Fandral, and found herself loathe to miss the opportunity she’d been given. She didn’t often work with more than one man at the time, but Loki was away and she wanted to play. She pouted as she was bucked into her practice armour, she’d had more combinations made by the royal armourer, and this particular set was soft pink with natural leather, which was worked with motifs of birds and roses. She’d asked Brun to look after her armour as he was familiar with the work. Her ladies had better things to do than polish buckles. The manservant’s eye was healing up fine. She really was better than to lose her temper like that, usually she inflicted pain without leaving a mark and it was ironic that the reason she was so angry was the same thing that hid her violence from her husband. He was far too indulgent with his servants, and she was sure he’d be upset to find bruises on his most faithful one. Never mind, by the time he returned all would be well.

“Delilah, I won’t be needing your services this afternoon, I’d like some quiet after my training. If you could let the other servants know?” she didn’t even look at the girl as she spoke, instead fussing over her tunic. Her servant nodded and left her dressing room. Sigyn rolled her eyes and strolled out. She was quickly learning why Sif chose to spend her time in this clothing; it really gave the body room to move. She tried not to fall into the habit of swaggering like a man, remembering to keep a lady’s posture and poise, head held high as she moved through the halls, taking small steps in boots designed for a firmer tread.

The exercise had been wearing her out, making her muscles sore and her body tense. She already had a masseuse on her staff, but had been utilising her skills more often this week. She suspected that wouldn’t be stopping any time soon. Oh how she chafed at this particular ruling of the AllFather. He rarely had anything to do with Sigyn, something she was particularly happy with considering her plans called for his death. It was unfortunate, but if she was to be queen, it was the only way. She could of course wait until the thunderer rose to the throne but she didn’t want to wait that long. She wanted the throne now. She craved it. Dreamed of it. And she would have it. Perhaps learning to use weapons well wasn’t the worst idea.


	8. Chapter 8

Sif was weary as she travelled silently through the forest towards one of her favourite brooks to bathe in, two pheasants strung over her shoulder. There was a part of the stream here that was deep and cool while running slowly. She was camped nearby and had left Socks to his own company so that she could attend her personal needs. She had been alone for days and found good hunting for all it had been small so far. In the next few days she would start going after bigger beasts to take back in victory. Right now, though, she needed to bathe. As she crept forward however, she was surprised to find a very familiar horse tied to a tree. “Snowflake?” she said quietly, a little startled, clicking her tongue in greeting. Though they weren’t far from the palace this was untamed land. What interest did her scholarly friend have in these parts? The horse greeted her and nosed her hand. She chuckled, giving him a piece of apple she had been carrying. “What are you doing here hey? Will I see a naked Prince if I wander further?” Snowflake only nickered in response and she gave him another scratch. “I suppose there is only one way to find out.” She joked, and continued on to the clearing. To say she was surprised by the sight that met her eyes would be an understatement.

There in the very stream she had been thinking of with longing for at least a day was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Was this a tryst? Did the prince have a lover she didn’t know about? She was almost ethereally pale, her back curved in all the right ways, with long hair reaching down wetly over petite shoulders as the woman washed. Sif froze where she was, hidden behind a bush, not quite knowing what to do. There was no sign of Loki. Had this woman stolen the prince’s horse? Unlikely. She thought back to Snowflake and remembered he was tied in Loki’s usual manner. Her eyebrows knit together. Shrugging, she stashed her pheasant and strode out into the clearing. The woman turned around and Sif froze, eyes wide and desire curling in her gut. It had been some time since the Prince had shocked her so. She took in the green eyes and unmistakable posture and swore soundly, falling out of her defensive stance, her arms wide in question. “Loki what is this new mischief?” she asked, smiling wide.

The woman grinned, looking relived, for all she was standing unashamedly naked waist deep in water. That grin did it; it was unmistakably the prince, turned princess. So this is what he’d disappeared off to do. She huffed a laugh, taking her in. She guessed she should be happy he wasn’t waltzing through the halls of the palace in such a form. At the thought of what Sigyn would think she burst out laughing, a laugh of pure mirth at the situation. Loki joined her. The lady warrior started on her boots and clothing and was soon enough joining her friend in the stream. “Loki you lunatic.”

He smiled wide, pride written all over his face. “So what do you think?”

Sif snorted. “If you turned up at court Sigyn would have you murdered because your tits are better than hers.” Loki laughed again and splashed her with the cold water. “I take it this isn’t a glamour. You’d have no reason for such a thing in the forest.”

His face grew serious. “No, this was a massive undertaking that took me almost ten years to complete.”

She was confused. “But you’re a natural shapechanger?”

He nodded. “Yes, but this was a shape I had to earn. Women have great power, and I had to prove my worth to Yggdrasil before I could make the change. It is a great honour.”

Sif cocked her head to the side. “So I suppose the great tree didn’t give you this power for mischief.”

Loki only gave her a mysterious smile. “No, for knowledge.”

She didn’t reply to that, and they both cleaned themselves and moved out of the stream. Sif watched as Loki moved out before her. This shape had wonderfully graceful hips and a pert bottom that Sif found hard to ignore. She hadn’t had feelings like this for Loki in centuries, but she couldn’t help wondering about possibilities now. They both dried off, easy in each other’s company and dressed. Loki, surprisingly dressing in clothing of lilac and natural leather, rather than his usual emerald. She had to admit she liked it. He had always had a knack for design and though the costume was only casual hunting garb it was beautiful. Once clothed he wrung out his hair and asked where she was camped. “About an hour’s easy walk. Where are you camped?”

He chuckled. “There is a royal hunting lodge nearby. I’m the only one who ever uses it. Care for a roof over your head?”

She smiled. “Of course! I have some pheasant; I know you enjoy such flavours.”

His/her eyes shined brightly. “Wonderful.”

They walked back to Snowflake and Sif uncovered her catches, throwing them back over her shoulder. They walked toward her camp. “How long have you been in the vicinity?” Loki asked, leading Snowflake by hand. The horse treated him just the same, showing how intelligent the beast was. If Loki was wholly in female form he would smell completely different. Sif didn’t know much, but she spent enough time in the company of men to know the difference.

“Three days. You?”

Loki was relaxed. He always was once away from palace life. “Eight days.” Was all he said in reply. They walked in silence, both enjoying the sounds of the forest. For all they were glad of each other’s company they both respected one another’s need for quiet. Once they found her little camp, just a canvas sheet strung up over a bedroll, with Socks standing guard she quickly packed up and they were on their way. For all Loki was an excellent hunter he complimented her on her numerous kills and she couldn’t help a little pride. She had been quite successful. There were a few people she always hunted for; including a kitchen maid she had a casual relationship with for at least a century. Kia had a husband and two children, but they still found pleasure in each other’s bodies from time to time. They were friends, for all that, and Sif always delivered her some small game whenever she had any. Kia’s husband was a lowly guard and they couldn’t always afford meat for the fast growing lad and lass. Loki mixed up a delightful potion for her to keep the meat fresh whenever she hunted and she always had a supply. It was an extremely useful piece of magic.

Eventually Loki reached out and grabbed Sif’s wrist loosely, pulling her past some sort of barrier and where there was only trees and forest she found there was a tiny golden cottage, covered in creeping vines. Loki was right; it looked all but abandoned compared to other hunting lodges of the Royal family that she’d stayed in.

They saw to their horses, who seemed rather pleased to have each other’s company, and moved inside. “Are you sure you don’t want to be alone?” she asked before stepping over the threshold. For all he was charismatic and excellent with people Loki was the most private person she knew.

He waved her off however, motioning for her to enter. She snorted. “You know you’re a lady now too, right?”

He laughed. “Ah, but still the host.” He said with a wink. His voice was an octave higher than normal but still low. Sif enjoyed that, having a rather low voice herself. Loki seemed not to be a prissy girl, for all he was accused of such every day of his life in Asgard.

Sif dumped her kills, already cleaned but for the two most recent ones on the kitchen bench. Made of marble, of course. The kitchen was full of Loki’s gatherings from the forest. Mushrooms and truffles, wild potatoes, various edible weeds and berries. There were other herbs she knew weren’t for eating but for magic which had been bundled and hung to dry. She spied some of the prince’s own killings, seeing some rabbit and some pheasants of his own. Much as he was teased throughout Asgard there were few who were better at living in the wilderness than Loki. He just preferred that particular fact to be a secret. She looked to where he was starting a fire with a click of his fingers but started dressing the birds. He lifted his head. “I’ll cook.”

Sif smiled. She was a good hunter but was happy to admit the arts of the kitchen had never been within her skill set. She could cook to survive but it was never all that delicious. Loki, with his skill in potion making and delicate princely sensibilities was quite a different story. And with those truffles.... Sif found her mouth watering at the thought. She finished dressing the birds and Loki shooed her out of his space. Sif instead poured them some wine and sat at the table. To one side was a pile of scrolls and another of books. She found herself jealous for the millionth time of Loki’s ability to simply store whatever he wished in some other dimension, allowing him to travel light and yet have all he desired at his fingertips. Imagine bringing books on a hunting trip? She also saw, to her surprise, a pile of cloth folded neatly. She was a lady, and understood immediately what she was seeing. The prince had been doing needlework. She picked it up after checking that her hands were clean. There was no question he was Frigga’s son. The stitching was perfect, in the motif of running horses, black on the lilac linen. She smiled. Loki looked over from where he was working. “How does it measure up, Lady?”

She snorted. “As if you would settle for anything less than perfect.” He smiled. Sif raised her eyebrows. “I notice that this is startlingly similar to something I saw on Queen Frigga a few months ago. Loki that smug look is cute on a man and terrible on a woman. You’re going to have to work on your expressions if you’re to pass for someone else.”

He laughed. “Ah Sif, but I’m not acting right now. I would change back to my own form but I worry that would knock off my cycle.” His expression was sincere.

Sif’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t mean..?”

He smiled, blushing. “Yes. I will not truly be a woman if I do not bleed. That is why I came out here, to live in this form until I am truly a woman.”

Sif huffed a laugh. Loki always was rather thorough, and she was impressed at his dedication. There were not many men who would dare such a thing. She supposed that was what he meant when he said he was tested. “Do you have everything you need for such a thing?”

Loki’s eyebrow’s creased. “I think so? I procured some cloths from the healing rooms, and read up on it. I hope I don’t suffer too much pain.” Sif had been holding her laughter in but found it too hard. She laughed again just as she had by the shore of the spring. Loki smiled a self depreciating smile, blushing once more, allowing that it was a ridiculous situation she had caught him in.

“Well good luck. If you need anything let me know. And when you are a woman, we will celebrate.” They both laughed and Loki went back to cooking.

...

Sigyn found herself far less grumpy than she had been this morning. She sat in a hot bubble bath nibbling on some sweet treats that her staff had left for her knowing that she liked to indulge after her practice with Fandral. She deserved it after she worked so hard. She stretched out a foot and stroked the leg of the man in question. Sipping on some sweet wine. She smiled a predator’s smile as he looked up at her, desire in his eyes, his firm chest and wide shoulders wet and dripping. She finished her cake and curled a finger, motioning him forward. “Fandral.” He came as if pulled, moving between her legs. She could feel his arousal and smiled as she wrapped a leg around his hip to pull him closer. His hands rested on her thighs, gently caressing where her husband would be harder. “Kiss me.” She commanded, her voice firm. He obeyed silently, placing his lips on hers gently, and then firm. She pulled him to her, nails digging into his muscled back. Yes, this was the right decision, he would do very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for the record, I don't think having a period in anyway defines you as a woman. or as not a man. We all know the world is not that simple. I simply thought that Loki would be super thorough and feel like if that was on the cards then he would prove something by not shying away from it. We all know men who are terrified of periods, (a few of them probably just bailed on this fic), and Loki isn't squeamish about it, he's totally interested in learning and science and magic and stuff, so he's embracing the crimson tide along with everything else.
> 
> Also, yes, it totally hurt to put Fandral in this position, but it was important for later. In all honesty if I had Sigyn seducing me I don't know if I'd be able to resist either. (oops)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erm... NSFW *blushes*

Loki looked across at his friend as they ate a delicious dinner. He was surprised when Sif had automatically recognised him, but out of anyone who could potentially find him out he was relieved it was her. She would see it as the Fire Queen had, that being a woman was something to be desired, to be achieved, and as such, his endeavour was a worthy one. He smiled a small smile. Sif truly was incredible. He wasn’t sure that he would have handled such a thing quite so well.

“So, what is your name in this form?”

Loki looked up at her, “I’m not actually sure yet. I was thinking maybe Astrid.”

Sif nodded. “Well it’s definitely not inappropriate.” Loki blushed as he saw her obviously looking his form over. “Did you...choose your shape?” she asked with her eyes on his breasts, which were quite obvious in his lilac tunic and leather support.

He hid his face in his hands, “No. Yggdrasil blessed me with this shape as it blessed you with yours.” She nodded, pulling one leg onto the bench she was sat on.

She looked him in the eye. There was no escaping it, when Sif wanted answers it was incredibly hard not to give them. Even for the god of lies. “So. Are you going to tell me why you spent ten years achieving this? I’m fairly certain you wouldn’t stick with it just because you were curious. Although...”

He searched her eyes. Could he trust her with this? It would be good to have one person know where he planned to go for months in the coming season. “I am going to spend time learning about the tribes of Muspellheim. I was invited by their queen.” He said quietly.

The look of surprise on Sif’s face was genuine, she had no idea. “What? The Fire Queen? When did you talk to her?”

He remembered back. “Oh, you were away when she visited. It was about a decade ago.”

All laughter was gone from Sif’s countenance. “I suspect this is a completely secret endeavour.”

Loki nodded. “Yes. Angrboda told me that if anyone came looking for me while I was visiting that there would be trouble. She obviously doesn’t want it spread around that she let a man into her tents or the rites.”

Sif smacked a hand on her head. “Of course- You want to see the dragons!”

Loki smiled, thinking of the beasts. “Yes. The culture between Fire Giant and dragon is so unique. And Angrboda said that if I could become a woman, then I could come and learn in her tribe.”

Sif released a breath. He could tell she wanted to join him. He didn’t like to deny her such an adventure but he knew it wasn’t possible. They couldn’t both be gone from the palace that long. She seemed to come to the same decision. “When do you go?”

“I’m hoping to be gone for the winter.” She nodded. He didn’t do too well with the heat, and the Fire giants had a rite at the beginning of spring. “If I’m gone too long please make sure it is you who comes to find me. I couldn’t abide the others...”

Sif nodded, and smiled. Perhaps she would see the tents of the Fire Giants after all. “Of course my friend. I suspect this isn’t really something your father would support.”

Loki scoffed. “No, for all the information will be priceless he won’t ever find out about this form if I can help it.”

Sif’s demeanour changed. She looked at him in a way she hadn’t in hundreds of years. “Why, _Astrid_ , you shouldn’t feel ashamed of yourself. There is nothing wrong with you.”

Loki swallowed. _Yes_ , he thought. _I think Ill keep that name_. He clicked and the dishes took care of themselves. Except the wine. He reached out and swallowed some, looking at her sheepishly. This was unexpected. Was she....?

Sif leaned in. “You’ve always been the most beautiful man I have ever seen but ....” Her eyes ate him up, as was her want. Her smile was sharp and hungry.

“Sif....”  He swallowed again, eyes swinging from contact with hers. “I’m married.”

She snorted and his eyes met hers once more. Sif was the most honourable woman he met until it came to bedding women. He didn’t know the details, but he knew there were many women that she took to her bed that were betrothed or married. Apparently some of their husbands knew and condoned such activities. Others, not so. “Come, Astrid. As if you don’t know that that blasted woman takes all and sundry into her bed. Goddess of fidelity my arse.” She reached out and rubbed her calloused thumb under his full lip. He bit it, worrying. Damn it, why did she have to discover him here? They had managed to avoid this particular scenario for centuries, for all there was still as much chemistry there this day as there had ever been. Attraction had never been their problem.

He looked over her longingly. It had been so long. He paused. This body certainly reacted differently. He closed his legs. Sif laughed. “Come, Loki. You took this form in order to learn. And believe me, Sigyn will only benefit from what you learn here.” She stood and started unbuckling her leather breastplate. It was of undecorated natural leather. Utilitarian, but beautifully crafted, the weather stained dark with centuries of use. He watched hungrily as she placed it aside and placed a boot on the bench, untying it. The neckline of her tunic hung low as she bent, and he could see Sif’s small breasts hanging without support. He licked his lips without thinking and Sif laughed again. Boots and leg guards taken care of she removed her leggings, standing shamelessly half naked before him. Loki was frozen to the spot. Any other woman he would resist with ease. Sif was another matter entirely. She knew him. And she wanted him. And her legs... It had been so long.

He groaned, covering his eyes with his hands. “Siiiif no.”

She laughed again and he realised she was behind him. “Yes.” She untied the leather thong that was holding the simple braid in his hair closed. As his hair spilled free she threaded her fingers through, enjoying the length. “I like your hair.” he shivered. She knew he loved this kind of contact. Her fingernails scraped his scalp and he shivered again, melting from her touch.

He leaned forward on the table, face in his hands. “Fuck. Why didn’t I marry you?”

Sif snorted, her hips on his back, “Because I refused your hand.” He pouted. She grabbed a fistful of hair and firmly pulled back; forcing him to look at her, and exposing his graceful and sensitive neck. She ran a thumb down it with her free hand. “I would have ended up killing you.” She said softly, kissing his forehead, his eyelids.

He leaned into her, completely relaxed in her strong grip. “I’m not convinced Sigyn won’t.” He said softly.

Sif’s face grew serious. “I know. Believe me; I have your back.”  She said, leaning into him again, a warm, solid wall at his back. Loki held her gaze and then nodded. Sif nodded too, and then kissed him on the mouth. She bit his lower lip softly and he opened his mouth to softly suck on hers. She pulled back. “Enough.” She said, and picked him up. She was an Aesir warrior and could actually carry Thor, so she had no problem with Astrid. She chucked as he made a small noise of surprise. She nuzzled his ear as she carried him. “Shhhh, _Princess_. Let me take care of you. I want to show you the pleasures of a woman.” He had no chance to reply as she placed him on the furs of the bed and proceeded to remove her own tunic. He suppressed a groan. It had been so long.

Sif’s body was amazing. While Sigyn’s was all curves and softness Sif’s was lithe and muscular power. Her small breasts were perfect for her career choice, and not lacking in any way when it came to appearance. It had never been just about her body however, it was her whole baring and fierce spirit that was attractive. She was all power and dominance, loving it when someone challenged back. She looked him over again and he gulped again, looking down at this body in his hunting gear. Sif moved forward and started working on his boots. “My compliments to your secret tailor Loki. This gear is perfectly designed and crafted as per usual.”

Loki swallowed. “They’re the best in the nine.” Sif smiled.

“Maybe one day you can share your secret.”

“You already have too much of me.” He said quietly, lip shaking. He bit it. He felt so exposed under Sif’s predatory gaze, for all he was the one fully clothed. Sif had always had this effect, and Loki had learned it from her. She moved with such a confidence when naked that you were left on your back foot. In this new form Loki felt unsure, like a virgin for all he had been sexually active for centuries. Her talented fingers pulled off his boots and placed them on the ground. She moved onto the bed and Loki fell back as she was suddenly over him, hands on either side of his head.

“I suppose.” Said, kissing him under the jaw and moving one hand to start untying the plaited leather thong that cinched his tunic at the waist. “Though I am rather determined to take this one thing from you.” She kissed him on the mouth again, and Loki replied in kind, finding her tongue and running his own on the back of her teeth. “Mmmmmm. So different. Uhh, and so similar.” She continued, her free hand finishing with the belt and moving up to find his breast. She paused. “Leather?” She raised her eyebrow. As she fell back onto her feet and used both hands to remove his tunic, throwing it aside. Underneath was a piece of clothing Loki had designed with his tailors for extra support. Sigyn may be content to sit around all day but Astrid had things to do, and had to be able to run. Sif looked impressed as she found the bindings and started to untie them.

“Have to be able to run.” Was all Loki said and Sif kissed him, hard.

“You’re a genius. Do you think you could get some made for me?”

Loki trailed his hand up her waist and over her ribs, rubbing his thumb over her nipple. Sif sighed. “I can.” He whispered. She kissed him again, peeling off the leather support and its under layer of linen which was embroidered with a motif of bees. She bent to kiss between his breasts and he felt his back arching and bit his lip. He couldn’t deny it. He wouldn’t want anyone but Sif to be doing this. Everything was so new. This body so responsive- even more so than usual. “Hhhhng. Ahhhh.” Sif was kissing his neck and touching his breasts and there was so much sensation. Loki closed his eyes and let her work. There was heat gathering between his legs, curling up his belly, his chest tightening. It was so different. “Ahhh, so different.” Sif smiled against his skin, using her teeth behind his ear.

“Mmmmmm. Even your moaning is different. So delicious Loki.” She nibbled his earlobe. Loki undid the ties to his leggings, and Sif rose from his hips to help him remove them. “Astrid.” Loki moaned as she bit his thigh softly as she pulled the leggings down. She looked up at him, and he shifted nervously, closing his legs as her eyes lingered on what lay between them.“You’re so beautiful.” She moved back up his body, trailing her hands on the outside of his thighs and Loki moaned into her mouth once it found his own.

“Sif.” He took handfuls of her hair, pulling slightly and it was her turn to moan. Loki flipped them over and put one of his legs between hers. She smiled and grabbed his new wider hips roughly as he mouthed her breasts. It was a new experience with a new mouth. He felt his breasts hanging heavily in this position and looked up to see Sif smiling at him, her eyelids heavy. He smiled back and kissed her. She tasted like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little note: So Loki said no a few times and Sif said yes. I almost didn't put that bit in there but I want to point out that if Loki had said no again, she would have relented. They had known each other for a long time, and that conversation was a negotiation of hands and lips and words, and she asked for his trust before pushing it to the bedroom, which he gave. Consent is super important and Sif had Loki's consent. anyway, I hope that came through.


	10. Chapter 10

Sif sighed and smiled down at the woman whose body was currently curled into her as her own deeply satisfied body sprawled out on her bed in satisfaction. Moonlight spilled through the windows of her bedchamber providing light to see her lover clearly. It had been a month since she had discovered Loki in the pool in her favourite hunting spot and subsequently seduced him. She hadn’t planned to, didn’t know she would until the moment before she did. She frowned, twirling golden Aesir locks through her fingers idly. He hadn’t returned and she had no idea where they stood in their relationship after her seduction. Of course he had responded, if a little slower than her, but it wasn’t the first time she’d had to coax him into bed. Only this time he was married, and he wasn’t a man prone to affairs. He cheated at cards, but not the marriage bed. Until now. “You already have too much of me.” He had said. Her lover must have sensed her tensing because she stirred, and Sif relaxed, allowing the girl to settle in where she was pillowed on her chest. She couldn’t describe the feeling of possessive lust that had hit her suddenly as she had stared into Loki’s eyes, bracketed by even longer eyelashes than usual, floating above a button nose and a mouth with wickedly plump lips. Had Loki been born a princess instead of a prince she had no doubt he would have been the most sought after maid in the land. She had seen him eating his dinner delicately across from her and it had suddenly stuck her that someone would wish to taste him. The women of Muspellheim were not strangers to the pleasures between women and she had decided that no matter what passed afterwards she would have him first. Just as she had had him first so many hundred years ago in love, and then in flesh, she would have him in this form. By the end, screaming her name in that beautiful rich voice, he didn’t seem to mind so much. She stifled a groan, thinking of the treasures that body had contained.

But in the morning, after reacquainting themselves, and discovering new pleasures throughout the night, Loki had softly but firmly encouraged her to go on her way. Sif had nodded, understanding his need for his own company after such a night, and left him with one more kiss. For all she knew it was the last she would ever share with the Second Prince, or Astrid for that matter. “Sif, go to sleep, you’re so tense.” Whispered her lover hoarsely and Sif rolled to her side, two bodies moving to tangle comfortably.

“Sorry Ingrid.” The woman chuckled and kissed her on the shoulder.

“Even you need to sleep, goddess.” Sif closed her eyes as Ingrid gently rubbed her temple with the pad of her thumb. “Save the worrying for daylight.”

Sif relented and forced herself to relax. “Wise words indeed.”

..................

Loki had been staring at the same line of text for four hours, though he had no idea until he realised the light from the window of the was completely faded. He shook himself out of his stupor and stretched his back out of its crick. A giant sigh followed and he rose to make himself a simple meal. He was overdue back at the palace but he was still overtaken with a score of confused feelings concerning his rash decision making the night he had spent in Sif’s company. He had no doubt that heading down that road any further would lead him to ruin, and so had sent her away the next morning with a handkerchief full of truffles and some extra game.  No, it would not do to enter such an arrangement with Sif and, for all he would never regret the night they spent, there was a solid chance the actions they had already partaken in would come back to bite them in the future. ‘We will never be lovers again,’ he had assured Sigyn. ‘We are too different.’ Loki pinched the bridge of his nose at the headache he had from sitting in the dark and swore. He didn’t like to be wrong, for all it had been an honest mistake. But he supposed it was just one more secret shared with Sif.

He shook it off and looked over his small amount of luggage before moving into the bedroom and dressing for bed. He’d already changed back into his male form a few days ago, achieving that which he had come to do, and not looking forward to the next time. He’d called it; he had been overcome with fierce pains and stiffness as well as swollen breasts and shifting moods. He had no idea how Sif fought through that kind of symptom every month, and didn’t blame her in the least for channeling that into rage on the battlefield or practice field. Nevertheless, for dragons, it was pain he could live with a few more times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's all I've got right now, there will be more, but that's all I have written so far. I hope it''s not too long but I got caught up writing two fics at once and we all know how that goes down. Please let me know how I'm going so far? Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I added a little bit to the last chapter, so you might want to swing back just to check that out <3

Sigyn sat alone in her chambers, lit only by one dim mage light, dressed in her silken bathrobe after a visit with Eir. Despite losing every meal for days, she had put off seeing the healer, to her servants and ladies increasing distress. She was certain she had only eaten something bad. Though on reflection, the chance of that happening to royalty was very slim indeed. She leaned her head against her headboard and sighed miserably. She supposed she should be happy it had taken this long for her to get pregnant, as royals weren’t exactly allowed to use contraception within their marriage. She’d been practically force fed herbs for fertility since her marriage began a few decades ago. It was one of the reasons she usually didn’t bring Loki into her bedchamber too often- usually. But lately she couldn’t help herself and here she was, sulking because the prince got her with child. If a boy, he would be third in the line of succession until Thor got some poor wretch with child. She untied her nightgown and looked down at her naked stomach. This was it, part of her plan to become necessary to the kingdom. A pregnancy would do even more to ingratiate herself even further to the public. They already loved their princess, but this would make her a mother of a prince, and they loved that sort of thing. Now that it was fact, she wasn’t so sure it was what she wanted. Being a mother did seem rather a chore. Her hands went to her stomach and she bit her lip. She could do this. She had proven herself in so many hard situations, and this was one which so many women did easily. She took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. Well there was no use sitting in regret, what was done was done. She was certain that it would be dreadful, but she would get through it.

And once Loki got back, he wasn’t going anywhere. If she got her way he would be waiting on her hand and foot.

...

As soon as Loki entered his bedchamber in the middle of the night he felt the weight of his life and responsibilities tensing up his back and neck. He looked into his mirror to check his wife’s bedchamber to get a shock. She was sitting on her bed in low light looking utterly devastated. Loki frowned at the image. His wife was holding her stomach in a way that generally only meant one thing. Loki and Sigyn were to be parents.

He sighed, brushing his hair out of his face and waving at his mirror to dispel the image. Well, it was bound to happen sometime, he just wished it was better timing, he would have to put off his journey to Muspellheim. Moving to his bath which Brun had so helpfully filled he stripped and eased into the water. He’d need confirmation of course, but if she was indeed with child, the next few months were set to be loud, full of fuss and very little time to himself. He closed his eyes and wished he’d had the gall to stay longer in his little sanctuary. At the same time he couldn't help but smile, how could he not? He had always been fond of children, of their inquiring minds and full imaginations. He found he was not entirely against the idea of a little one of his own. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally meet the lead heroine of our tale. If you've read my fics Hel's quest and Days of Rain than you've already met her, but that was in a dream. Contextually, I'm writing this on the basis that you have, in fact read that stuff, and so won't be surprised by the grizzly end. We all know Loki's story is super sad. (I just realised that I didn't tag that. I'll do it now.) I don't go for too much angst, but this is a back story, and hopefully goes a way to theorise what could make Loki so brittle and fragile when we meet him in Thor and afterwards. you know, just for funsies. 
> 
> While writing Angrboda I was listening to Two Weeks by FKA Twigs.

Angrboda suppressed a roll of the eyes for the hundredth time as she sat in a council of the clans going on the fifth hour. it was the fifth day of proceedings and gratefully the last. Her second, Mara caught her eye and pulled a face as an elder from one of the male clans went on about her lack of children. Apparently the people of Muspellheim needed her leadership in everything, including the activities that went on under the covers. If she was honest with herself, she wasn’t sure why she could never abide the idea of settling with any of the tender hearted and strong men of her people, but she found it difficult to want any of them. The last man she had felt anything for was the curious prince with ice in his veins, Loki of Asgard. It had been ten years since she offered an invitation to the scholar. She hadn’t thought of him in quite some time but she remembered his green eyes and quick tongue with clarity, the surprise on his face as her hand burned his icy lips as he kissed it. She gave a sharp grin to the council and offered them a suggestion. “Perhaps I should make an alliance; I hear Prince Thor has yet to be wed.”

Mara barked with laughter from where she sprawled next to the queen in the ring of elders, as did many of the female clan leaders and no few of the men. None in Muspellheim found Thor to be desirable for anything other than a sparring partner. “If it is a troll you desire I’m sure there few unwed males in the forest, let us find one of them to take your hand Dragon Sister.” Called Clara, the leader of a clan only just smaller than her own.

Angrboda allowed herself to laugh at the joke and the circle erupted in jokes about dull-witted Asgardian males and their uses. Eventually she cleared her throat. “I will take your advice into consideration, Samuel, and I advise us all to take a hand to encouraging our young ones in romance and play. Little ones truly are a joy and gift to each clan, and we should be treating such things with the care they deserve. As for me I assure you, that I will see to mine own responsibility at the soonest opportunity.” Those around the fire laughed. “Now, for Norns sake please, let us move onto other things.”

...

“They’re not wrong, you know.” Mara’s rough voice broke into Angrboda’s thoughts of growing seasons and the dragon gift as the two lead their caravan of warriors and their men and boys back to their village by the northern sea; the woman of her tribe watching over the gentle males’ two day journey.

“Who’s not wrong?”

“Come Angrboda,” Mara’s strong, low voice was soft as she reprimanded her friend. “How long has it been since you even took a lover? It has been eleven years since he was killed, will you grieve forever? Avoiding happiness will not bring him back, and you know it.” Angrboda avoided looking at her friend and second, instead peering down to the young boy asleep on the front of her saddle. She carded her fingers through his silver hair as she thought. His little silver eyelashes fluttered on his cheeks as he dreamed of the ocean, or perhaps a crop of tulips. It truly had been long since she took anyone to her bedroll.

She sighed. “I know. I simply haven’t felt the pull.” Finally she looked at her friend and saw only understanding there. Indeed, Mara had lost people too, and felt the pain of a cord broken too early. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, we’ll worry about that later, it is time to make camp and get these boys settled.”

Mara gave her another stern look, but turned to give an elaborate whistle which others in the caravan picked up and they all came to a halt on the plain. They would not set up tents tonight, but only roll out their bedrolls and sleep under the stars in order to make good time. Angrboda pulled her horse up and kissed Belle, her son awake. “Come, my Belle, it is time to wake and play among the camp fires.”

The boy sleepily opened his eyes and smiled. “We’re at camp?”

Angrboda smiled. “Of course petal, we are here. Would you like to help me light our fire?”

Later, as the camp settled down to sleep, Angrboda sat, once again watching her boy sleep soundly, safe in the midst of their camp. It had been but one year since he had moved to live with her brother on his plot by the ocean. He had reached his twelfth birthday and there was nothing to it, the call of the ocean and the earth had taken him, just as it did all Muspellheim boys. She supposed that is why it had come up in the meeting this season. Apparently the people thought it was time for her to move on. She had a great many fertile years left and she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to keep her eyes open. For all she wasn’t ready to rekindle the fires of love, Angrboda had always wanted many children. She rose and checked with those of her people on first watch, making sure they were all in place and ready for the night watch. Finally she returned to her bedroll, the floral fabrics within the canvas outer roll worn to softness over the years. Her restless mind turned towards her past lover, Michael, who died with many others in a Troll raid six months before Belle was born. He was the quintessential Muspellheim man, gentle, strong and very good at growing. They had played and loved for two centuries before it was all brought to an end and she had to hold her people together while heavily pregnant and grieving herself. They were dark times indeed. She supposed, on reflection, all of the woman who had lost lovers and sons in that raid needed to see that she was moving on, so that they themselves could. She realised how she had closed her heart, and knew many other woman had done the same in order to keep living and fighting. She grunted and turned over, watching her boy sleep. She would open her eyes, and see about opening her heart in the future.

In the morning her clan rose and set about eating and packing to get onto the road before dark. Everyone was used to the early hour, so they were on the move in very good time. She allowed herself to relax as she watched the caravan roll out, watching Belle run ahead with a few other boys and girls his age. They would need to share mounts with others when they picked up speed, but needed an hour or so to get moving and warm to the exercise.  After a brief lunch break to feed and rest the horses they made good time to the village. The men all went home to see to their plots and to those who had stayed behind in order to keep the plants alive and the village safe. Angrboda greeted one of her women as she crossed a courtyard to join them. Maya, Mara’s twin sister, and nearly identical. They had one other brother who looked similar to them both, for all he was a much gentler being who had a true gift with fruit trees. they would be lost without him. 

“Mistress we have some rather peculiar news. A visitor from Asgard.” Maya said, a quirk to her lips. Angrboda’s eyebrows rose, though she stayed silent. So, was the prince here already then?

A tall brunette stepped out from the shadows across the courtyard, dressed in full Asgardian armour. At Angrobda’s nod she crossed to them. Her bow was deep for all it was efficient. “Come,  sister, you stand as our equal here. What message do you have from Asgard? What do they call you?”

The woman rose and nodded. “Greetings Your Majesty, my name is Sif.” The twins’ eyebrows rose. They all knew of Sif here, and her title of Goddess of War. The women smiled. “And I carry but a missive from our second prince responding to your conversation on your last visit. I believe you asked about all of the books that wrote of your traditions.”

Mara spit. “It is sacrilege to write such things down.” Sif nodded solemnly, and passed Mara a scroll sealed with green wax in the emblam of a snake. Mara only passed it to Angrboda. They stood on very little ceremony in Muspellheim.

Angrboda pulled out a knife and tore the seal, quickly reading the letter. She snorted. “He wrote out every passage he had found on our traditions, asking me to spell out which he was to destroy. What a sweetheart.”

Mara huffed a laugh, her silver hair shimmering with movement. “I did rather liked that boy, for all his wife was useless swine.” Angrboda gave her a look, but it seemed Sif particularly didn’t seem to mind the insult to her princess. Interesting.

She flicked through the pages. Quality paper rarely seen in their realm, covered in precise, neat script. “I’ll be needing to take a closer look at these. Please, Sif, join us as we feast. Our men honour us with the fruit of their labours this night. You will sit with us.” The Lady nodded, and followed Maya from the courtyard. Mara raised an eyebrow. Angrboda gave a tiny shake of the head. “Not here.” The two moved from the courtyard, seeking out their loved ones to prepare for dinner.

.....

“So, Sif. Tell us news of your realm. Mara was interested to know if Thor was yet wed.” Sif looked up from her place at the ringed table to see Angrboda’s face pulled into a sharp smile. Uproarious laughter rang out around the table. Even Sif smiled at that, an ironic quirk of the lips.

“I am happy to advise you that he is indeed still unwed. There are many who wish for his hand, but all are yet disappointed. The prince only wishes to roam and fight.” The men present shook their heads or shrugged, feeling no desire for that lifestyle. The women said a few things Sif would have to remember to pass on to the prince to take him down a few pegs.  “Though I am also delighted to inform you of our realms most recent joy, our second Prince, Loki and his wife are expecting twins.” She looked directly at Angrboda as she said as much.

The queen gave a nod and a sardonic laugh, “I suppose that he is dismayed to find that he no longer has time for his books and studies.”

Amused, Sif nodded. “Indeed. The princess has banned him from his journeying and his studies. She has him waiting on her hand and foot. I believe the lady Sigyn caught him sneaking out for a military strategy meeting just before I left for your realm. He looked quite distraught. I'm sure you'll relate to his need to see directly to the safety of his people.” Her eyes filled with fondness. “Though he has yet to admit it I rather think he is excited to be a father.”

The queen’s brother Daniel smiled. “It is indeed a beautiful thing to see your own children born of woman. There is nothing like it at all. Please allow us send some gifts for him.” He was a beautiful man, his silver hair swept into two long braid that hung over his strong shoulders. Sif mused that for all the Fire Giants seemed to have skewed gender rolls, the men were not any less masculine for their gentle natures. Only without the posturing and nonsense they almost seemed more masculine than the hyper testosterone fueled ideal of manhood that stood in Asgard. It was the same for the women. They embraced their femininity in different ways, but it was very present. 

Sif nodded. “I would be honoured to bring them to him. I’m sure they will go a ways to making up for his lack of travels at this time.”

“Ah, yes.” Daniel said quietly. “I have heard he likes to wander. I myself find it hard to be away from my home. It is only love and family that gets me to move at all.” An exceptionally tall and willowy woman leaned over and kissed him on the temple. If she was honest Sif was finding herself enjoying the dynamic of Muspellheim hugely. She was also enjoying the heated looks her guide, Maya was sending her way throughout dinner. She gave back as good as she got, and wandered where the night would go.

After dinner the other twin, Mara slipped up to her in the dark. “The queen thanks you for coming personally on behalf of your liege. She wonders whether he achieved the goal he was aiming for when they spoke last.”

Sif smiled, thinking of long legs and soft hair. “He did. Please assure her that I saw and experienced this with my own eyes... and touch.” Mara laughed and gave her a clap on the back.

 “My queen will be grateful for your thorough investigation. This would never work if...”

 “No, a full transformation.”

 “Very good. We greatly anticipate the birth of his children. Please give these gifts to them on our clan’s behalf, though there will be more form the men tomorrow, I should think.”

 Sif nodded her thanks and received the parcels. At that moment Maya caught her eye from across the room. The queen’s second laughed again. “I see my sister desires you. I will take my leave and let you decide your course for tonight.” Sif took her wrist in a warriors shake and smiled. “Thank you. And please pass my thanks as well as my prince’s on to your queen.”

Mara nodded, and left quietly. She was replaced by her sister shortly afterwards. “Come, Lady, you must be tired from your journey across the realms.”

Sif huffed a laugh, “Truly you have had more strenuous travel this day.”

Maya’s purple eyes shone in the half light as she lead her to the garden where there were some bedrolls laid out among the beds of flowering sweet peas. There was a little coverage provided by the vines and pink flowers for privacy and the delicate scent made Sif smile. She wondered if this was how all the women of Muspellheim seduced their men, from what she’d seen she wouldn’t be surprised. “Well then, it seems that neither of us is tired. Mayhap I can find a way to use the time before slumber calls us to it.” Sif noticed how much younger and lighter Maya seemed than her twin.

Sif smiled, and brushed her fingertips across Maya’s full lips. “I daresay we are in accord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> World building is hard! I have all this stuff in my head but communicating that concisely so that you guys know what is going on is super tough. Especially when my brain as a sandwich because of CFS/ME. Kudos to all the peeps who do this way better than me! x
> 
> Also I'm totally throwing this stuff up as I write it, so bare with me. I'm not very organised with this baby.


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